I remember blaming my mother for sending me to church on the Sabbath.
On one occasion the preacher had to send some one into the gallery to
wake me up. I thought it was hard to have to work in the field all the
week, and then be obliged to go to church and hear a sermon I didn't
understand. I thought I wouldn't go to church any more when I got away
from home; but I had got so in the habit of going that I couldn't stay
away. After one or two Sabbaths, back again to the house of God I
went. There I first found Christ, and I have often said since:
"Mother, I thank you for making me go to the house of God when I
didn't want to go."