Years later Olaf bought the farm and his parents moved to another house. One morning Mr. Erickson did not come in for breakfast, and his wife went to his bedroom to see what was the matter. There he was on his knees by the bed praying. The first time she had ever seen him doing so in that position. He got up and said, "yes, I am coming." She went back to the kitchen, but still he did not come; so she went back to call him. Again he was on his knees by the bed. She said, "Aren't you coming husband. The breakfast is getting cold." He answered again, "Yes, I'm coming." But he did not come yet. She went back the third time, and on his knees he was, and this time he was dead. No doubt the man had been calling upon God, and the Bible says, "Whosoever calleth on the name of the Lord shall be saved." Hundreds of prayers had gone up for those folks. After his death Mrs. Erickson went to stay with her oldest daughter at Westlake, Minnesota. After being there for some time she took very sick, and she said to her daughter, "Will you send for the preacher?" Yes, she said, "What is his address?" (thinking she wanted her own pastor). "No," she said, "I want your pastor, Brother Susag." I went and at the end of three days, she got gloriously saved and got well. Later on she took sick again and passed on, and because I was in Europe at the time, my wife conducted the funeral service. What looks hopeless with man can be changed by prayer. * * * * * At one time when Olae Christaphersen was selling books in the country between Grove City and Litchfield, Minnesota, he came to a home where quite a number were weeping and he asked why they were so sad. The lady of the house replied, "Our daughter, a young lady, is in the bedroom dying, and husband has gone to town to get the coffin, as she stinks already." (Those days they took the coffin to the homes sometimes). He inquired if he could see her, and she said, yes. After standing looking at her a while, he knelt and laid his hands on her and prayed the prayer of faith, and the Lord raised her up. Years later he was selling books in N. Dakota. He came to a nice farm home and knocking at the door a fine looking lady opened the door. Surprising him, she said, "Come in." Unused to such courtesy, he hesitated a moment, and she said again, "Come in, I know you. I am the lady you prayed for down by Litchfield, Minnesota, whose father had gone to the undertaker to arrange for the funeral. I am married and this is my home." * * * * *