Let’s look down along that line this morning. There stands this little mother and that one here. Way down there I see a gap between them. What is it? They’re all getting away from somebody down there. What is it? It’s a little girl about eighteen years old that’s just been married to a man called Joseph. And there’s a very black name about her. She’s had this baby before they were married. And here she comes to the temple to offer a sacrifice. Look what it’s wrapped in: not in laces and little bonnets and things, as the other mothers, but it was wrapped in swaddling’s cloth. If I understand right, that’s what goes on the back of a yoke of an ox where he plows: was hanging in the stable. They wrapped Him in that. He was the King of glory. He owned all heavens. He came down by the way of the barn. He went out by capital punishment up yonder on Calvary. Here he was; He owned all the cattle, all the goods, everything there was in the world, and yet was wrapped in swaddling’s cloth. And here this little mother, she…?…to what people said. She knew what her heart was before God. She watched the little Fellow, holding the little turtledove for a offering for her purification and the circumcising of the Baby. Well, I see somebody say, “Don’t stand near her; she’s—she’s one of them holy rollers. See, see? Get back. That’s one of them…You know?” That disgraceful name still follows the church. See? Then anyhow, they all made their way around her.

Deep Calleth Unto the Deep, 1952-08-09, Chicago, IL, §10