Insomuch as you have done unto the least of these My little ones

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262. So one cold day, he was standing by the gate of the city of Tours, when he was going in, and said there laid an old beggar in the street. You've have read it, no doubt, many a time. There laid a beggar in the street, freezing to death, a real cold winter. He was begging people, "Come. Will--will somebody give me a cloak? I'll freeze tonight. I can't lay out on this ground like this. Will somebody give me a coat?" Nobody. He said, "Please, somebody have mercy, an old man, I'm dying. I've served my time. I've done my best. Don't let me die. I'm freezing to death. Somebody wrap me up, will you?"
And so he just stood back, Saint Martin, looking. He wasn't a believer; he wasn't a Christian then; he hadn't accepted It. He just stood and watched. Nobody did it, when the crowds went on by, some of them plenty well to do it. He only had one coat, and that was his military coat. He pulled out his sword and cut it, half in two, wrapped the old beggar up in it, and went on.
People laughed at him going down the street, one piece of coat hanging on him. "What a funny looking soldier," they said it was, made fun of him.
That night he was woke up in his sleep. He looked, standing by the side of his bed, and there stood Jesus wrapped in that old piece of coat that he'd wrapped the beggar in. Then he knowed, "Insomuch as you have done unto the least of these My little ones..."
It was a paradox, his call. He was the--he was the messenger of that age. He stood for the Scripture, against all the wickedness of Catholicism in that day. God chose him, and He let him see Christ by a paradox.

Paradox - 64-0206B - William Branham