Oh, let my mission be to impress the glowing truths of immortality upon the hearts of grief-stricken mortals. To bear to mourning parents, brothers, and sisters, sorrowing husbands, wives, and children; to those who murmur because they believe death has torn their beloved ones from their grasp, this glorious conviction, that the dear ones are not beneath the sod, nor do they dwell millions of miles away, beyond the stars, but amid the glowing sunbeams that fail around their mortal friends, their tender faces shine; and through the golden mists of death their gentle voices are calling to loved ones here. Oh, friends, your dear ones are with you. Not one is lost, none are separated from you, they come to you in the gloom or sorrow, or in the stillness of night. They walk by your side and bless your lives. Whether your sight can pierce the clouds of doubt and fear or not, your loved ones surely come, and by permeating your lives with a holier thought and purer aspiration, they lead you nearer to the heavenly gates, which you shall one day enter, and finding your darlings close beside you, shall then know that they have never died.
THE RAIN OF THE SUMMER-LAND.
A veil of silvery mist has gathered over my Summer-Land home, which is so fine and ethereal that it scarcely hides the golden sunlight that shines through the glittering vapor, turning it molten gold, and now and then changing it to red and blue and every other rainbow hue. The shining mist, descending from snowy clouds, falls silently like a blessing of love upon the green sward, the fragrant flowers, and the branching trees that look up with grateful joy to catch the refreshing bath. The far-off hills and mountains gleam through the lovely veil, with a softened and subdued light that adds a new charm to their beauty. The waters of stream and river murmur more musically sweet, as if conscious of the new power they will have gained when the mists have cleared away. The birds chirp contentedly in their leafy bowers, as if in welcome to this spiritual rain, and all life becomes animated anew, and thrilled with a sweeter power and strength.
No heavy storms, no tearing whirlwinds, come to sweep away the works of nature. Those are but the effects of forces working through matter alone, and belong solely to the mundane world; but softly, silently, and sweetly descends the rain of the Summer-Land, covering hill and dale, shrub and tree, with a tiny dew-like moisture, that brings new vigor and refreshment to all things.
All alone in my quiet sanctum I sit and gaze out upon the golden mist; half lost in wonder and delight I ask myself, was ever anything so beautiful as this? The very essence of life seems descending in that spiritual shower, and under its influence my spirit rises as with new energy, strength, and power.
HAPPINESS OF SPIRITS IN COMMUNING WITH FRIENDS ON EARTH.
From the contemplation of the beautiful works of God spread out before me, my thought flows out to dear ones who abide in the mortal form, and filled with love and sympathy it reaches out to their hearts, forming a magnetic chain which connects their lives with my own. A quiet peace stealing over those dear ones on earth, a happy sense of blissful repose filling their souls, prove them to be en rapport with the Higher Life; and though I do not leave my apartment in my spirit home, yet I can see and commune with the loved ones, and send out to them my thoughts upon the chain of affection that binds each soul to mine; I know they receive the message, and respond in the inner consciousness of their hearts to these echoes from the spirit shore.
But though spirits may thus live close to their earthly friends, without leaving their upper homes, yet it affords us sweet delight to return in spiritual presence to the homes we loved on earth, and, by mingling with dear ones in the mortal, partake of their joys, participate in their sorrows, bless them with our affection, and, by silent impression upon their minds, permeate their thoughts with our ideas, and ever seek to draw them upward and onward toward the beautiful and the good. Such is the blessed mission of many loving and devoted spirits who are working for the soul elevation of friends on earth.
POETRY OF THE SPIRIT SPHERES.
In my frequent visits to this medium I have sometimes encountered one who, a poet when on earth, still delights to sing his melodies through the lips of mortals, and at such times I have felt my spirit bathed in a halo of light as I listened to his metrical utterances, or better still came en rapport with his spirit, saw the gems of thought therein, and watched him weaving them into lines of richest grace and beauty. Oh, ye mortals, the poems you receive from minds on earth, whether given forth by the acknowledged poet, or through the organisms of mediums, are but the shadows of a glorious reality above; they are but as skeletons compared with the full and perfect forms, clothed with the majesty of perfected expression in the soul world; a mere outline, which conveys to you perhaps an idea of the beautiful whole, as it flashes forth from the realm of spirit.