face softened.
worthless life."
came an altar, where the conversion, and the
celebration, took place. In the morning, word
came to the officers that the new convert had
been called to Heaven.
ried career that spanned the last century. He
was what the poet called a "hound of Heaven." Gen-
eral Paul Rader, a son, said of him: "He was with-
out peer in personal encounters with the seeking
sinner. He could virtually smell soul hunger. He
was unrelenting in his pursuit."
New York; in the little Glory Shop evangelistic
wagon among the speakeasies and brothels of
Hell's Kitchen; in youth and executive appoint-
ments; and in decades of peripatetic evange-
lism. He is remembered as a colorful, singular
figure in the history of The Salvation Army--
the embodiment of the Salvationist vision of life
as "romance and dynamite."
young, old; it mattered not--he found a way.
He preached the Bible, "deep calling unto
deep," in sermons salted with wit and story
and object lesson. Corps congregations paltry
officers, who often hosted him in their homes,
dear. He was scion of seven generations
of preachers; he would do right by his legacy.
his beloved Gladys. At the nightly family
altar, Rader anchored the faith of the five chil-
dren, all of whom became officer missionar-
ies. His
photograph of the old colonel bent in prayer
over a dog-eared notebook. At the window, a
dogwood blooms, an emblem of the Resurrec-
tion hope that so captivated him and brought
him Home, and not alone.
evangelist, lives in retirement in Easton, PA.
to a tenement apartment nervously. It was late.
This might not be a good idea... The man they
tion. When they knocked, he answered, his expression
menacing in the sallow light, his wife shadowed behind.
He had always been hostile to the captain.