And you, ye waters, roll
Till like a sea of glory
It spreads from pole to pole.
Progression, oh, Progression!
The joyful sound proclaim,
Till earth’s remotest nation
Hath learned Progression’s name.”
I have just listened to the above rendition of the inspiring missionary hymn, and my soul thrills in harmony with the aspirations and the desire to spread the light of truth before all people, which was thus expressed.
It was in no hall of worship and assembly that the words of the hymn fell upon my hearing. But in returning from the earthly home of loved ones, where I had been to whisper my matin greeting of sympathy and affection, to my peculiar haunts in the spirit world, I found a knot of spirit missionaries who had met to exchange reports of their labor, and to unite their powers and energies in doing good to the needy by shedding a stream of light upon earth’s darkened places.
There were venerable men whose years had been spent in working for others. Their flowing robes, and the sandals upon their feet rendered their appearance patriarchal. There were elderly females in whose countenances appeared the light of pure love and benevolence. These latter were the nurses, the tender counsellors, the gentle mother spirits, whose lives are devoted to the ministering unto sin-sick, battle-worn souls, who enter spirit life without hope or faith. There were also young men and maidens, novices in the work of teaching others, but who, from their earnest desire to be of use and to do good, were drawn to this particular field of toil.