The garb of all but the patriarchs was similar to that worn upon earth; but the females were clothed in plainer, less elaborate garments than I think any of their mortal sisters would have been content to wear. No badge of office glistened upon their breasts, or gleamed from the shoulder. Nor was this necessary; their credentials shone from their sparkling eyes, and beamed in their tender, pitying faces. Theirs is a mission of peace, and only the implements of love and good-will do they require, such as tender, earnest speech, faithful hearts and helping hands, to accomplish their work.
I could perceive the purpose of their meeting; here, in a comparatively isolated spot, where the trees hemmed them in from external scenes, unmolested by others, they had met to make their reports, and to gain strength, cheer, and encouragement from their friendly and soul-felt intercourse. They had just begun to sing the old familiar hymn, a verse of which I have quoted, as I came up, and the melody, which trickled through the lines like a stream of light, together with their earnestness of expression, arrested my attention, and thrilled my being with a new purpose and aspiration. Oh, thought I, what a glorious mission, to be of use to others, to be a beacon-star to some lonely wanderer amid the trials of life, to speak words of kindness, of hope and love to the broken-hearted and sad. Oh, that I might be like these people!
Instantly, one of the band, a gentle, beautiful female, turned to me with out-stretched hand as if in greeting, her whole countenance suffused with joy, and said: “Dear child, thy mission hath already begun; thine is the task to bear love and sympathy to weary mortals, to whisper words of peace and hope, and to point them to a higher life. What more heavenly task than this! The divinest work for the soul is to fulfill the duty laid upon it. In thee we see the promise of labor to be wrought. Go on thy way, inspire the spirits of those thee doth approach with faith and trust in the love of God; point each to the land of life beyond the rolling tide of death; carry pure and gentle thoughts to mortals struggling with the trials of life; drop the sunlight of peace upon all whom thou dost meet. Thus canst thou and every spirit become a messenger of joy, a missionary of hope and truth. God bless and guide thee in thy efforts for good.”
Like a holy benediction the words fell upon my spirit, filling me with a sense of love for all things. Then and there I resolved to do all in my power to cheer, enlighten, and instruct the sorrowing and the uninformed, feeling that in this I could perform my work, and also brighten the golden links binding me to loved ones on the mortal side.
A SPIRIT RETURNS TO COMFORT HER MOTHER.
Just now my mind is filled with thoughts of an interview I have recently held with a fair young girl, who but lately burst the bonds confining her to a material body. She was sad, very sad. All this life is new and strange to her, and though surrounded by tender care and loving sympathy, yet filial affection draws her constantly back to those dear parents who, sorrowing as those without hope, cannot realize her presence with them.
“My mother,” she said to me, “oh, my mother! if I could speak to her and tell her of my home in Heaven! But my death was such a heavy blow to her; she is so sad, so miserable, and I cannot help her!”
“You can; you will bless and comfort your mother,” I replied; “if you will come with me I will show you how to send a message to those you love on earth. You have heard of a medium?”
“Oh, yes, but it would be no use for me to visit one. My friends would not accept anything given them from such a source; they would believe it all nonsense. No, it is no use.”
“But you can make such an effort to reach your mother, and if you fail it will be no worse to you than it is at present.”