A good portion of my life I have thought that the calls which came to those who are to do things for the Church, while officially coming from the prophets, perhaps might come as a still, small voice speaking to the person in the manner of the words of the Lord when he spoke to Samuel. He called, "Samuel"  1 Sam. 3:10 Samuel had to answer two or three times. The words which came to me sounded distinctly like those of President David O. McKay.

THE WAY THE CALL CAME

I submit to you the questions he asked of me because I believe there have never been propounded, to me at least, three more innocent questions. He said, "Where are you?" Of course, I was in my office. He said, "What are you doing?" I said, "I am working." He said, "Would you like to attend conference?" Well, the only reason I wasn't attending conference was because I had no ticket. So I assured him that I would be very happy to attend conference.

He told me he wanted me to attend conference, would I please come down as quickly as I could and sit in the audience and see him at noon. That was as much as I knew until I got to the temple gate, when a very polite and delightful officer of the Salt Lake City police force informed me that I was a member of the First Council of the Seventy, and for the first time in my life I was escorted by a policeman across the temple grounds.

PERSONAL EXPERIENCES

Now I know, and many of you know, that, whatever the reason why I am called (and I do not know what it is) I should not be here in any event without the love and the backing and the work of the men with whom I have labored in the past twenty-two years. A sprinkling of those men sit in this audience today. All I can see before me is a sea of faces, as one man put it this morning, but there are islands in that sea, and those islands are the faces of my friends from all parts of the four counties which I have served so long. They took me to their hearts twenty-two years ago after President Samuel G. Dye and President C. E. Smith, who were then members of our executive board of the Ogden council, with other men, thought I was honest looking enough to try to be their Scout executive, so they voted me in.

I moved to Ogden and that is where my house is, but over these years I have learned my home is there only in part. My home has been in Park Valley, in Snowville, in Howell, in Deweyville, in Croyden, in Devil's Slide, in Morgan, in Willard, in Mantua, in Kaysville, in Layton, in Clearfield, in Syracuse, in Hooper, in Plain City, in Huntsville, and in all of the hamlets where boys have been gathered together as Boy Scouts.

In the counties of northern Utah, loyal bodies of men, under the direction of their bishops and stake presidents, have been called and have labored with those lads. It has been my fortunate lot to serve with them and to serve them. I know of no better group, and it is likely that I shall never meet a more loyal group.

They have been an honor to me, loyal and true. I have camped with them; I've hiked the hills with them; we've talked over Scout problems together; and we've tried to make the boys of the Church better Latter-day Saints. As I say, if I have had the call which I have received, come, it must be because of the support these men have given me, not because of any inherent virtue which I possess, and I pay tribute to them, and I thank them for their support.

Perhaps I shouldn't say this, but when I reached home last night, I received a call from a very close friend who said, "Well, that's fine for you, but what will the poor Boy Scouts do?" I can assure you that there are dozens of professional men in scouting who are Latter-day Saints, humble, honest, upright men who could step into the position I hold and do a much better job than I am doing or have done, so you need not fear, my friends of the Ogden area. When the time comes for me to step down from that position and take another, there will rise up, at the hands of those who elect him, one who will do a better job than I, and one with whom you will be satisfied, I am sure.

A TRIBUTE TO ELDER SAMUEL O. BENNION

I should like to pay tribute to my old mission president, and to his wife. I was one of those persons who were fortunate enough to be under the direction of President Samuel O. Bennion, back in the days when he was a vigorous mission president. He sent me out with Elder Boyd Rogers without purse or scrip, into the wilds of Louisiana to preach the gospel. I didn't know the reason why he sent me to Louisiana, so he told me one time. I was quite a loud youth. I had a voice like a foghorn, and I laughed like one, so when he heard me laugh in the mission office one day after I arrived, he said, "You go to Louisiana. You can laugh down there, and they can't hear you." Elder Rogers and I went down there where they couldn't hear us, and for three days they didn't hear us. We were lost in the piney woods of Louisiana. One of the happiest moments I have experienced in this conference today is to have Elder Rogers, whom I haven't seen since, step up here and make himself acquainted with me.

President Bennion was a father to me. Sister Bennion was a mother for more than two years. I regret the passing of President Bennion more than I can tell you, and I should like to say over this radio to Sister Bennion that I love her nearly as much as I love my own mother.

I desire to serve you in humbleness and sincerity, but I also desire strength of body and of mind to testify to the truth of what I know so well. I know that Christ founded this Church in these last days through the Prophet Joseph and that it sits solidly and squarely on the rock of revelation, given to its living prophet, President Heber J. Grant. If I can bear that testimony to the world wherever I am called, I shall be happy. I shall serve with all the strength I have and with all my might and with all my mind, until that time when I am called hence, and meet my father and my grandparents and my son. I ask it in the name of Christ. Amen.