The December sun glanced through the big picture windows in the living room of Harry Holt's 13-room farm home perched on a hill near Creswell, Ore. There sat Holt, 52, a thickset man with a ragged mustache and shaggy eyebrows, and his wife Bertha, 53, her unrouged face a picture of contentment. Around the couple cuddled eight button-eyed children, aged 3 to 5. Their thin voices mingled with the Holts' as they sang:
Jesus loves the little children of the
world,
All the children of the world, Red and yellow, black and white,
All are precious in his sight, Jesus loves all the...
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