Our little spirit girl, Flora, sometimes takes her harp into earthly homes where want or misery or pain are felt, and in the quiet hours of night, when the tired inmates are what you call asleep, she plays and sings to them, and their spirits, which are not asleep, though their bodies are wrapped in slumber, listen to the sweet sounds and grow strong and happy; for they gain power from the spirit sounds to go on in their weary life on earth. These poor, sad people do not in their waking hours remember that they heard such heavenly music and singing, but they sometimes recollect that they had dreamed pleasant things, and they often wonder why they feel so happy when they awake and so strong to go through with the toils of the day. It is because they had been visited in their sleep by an angel child.
There is a large hospital in one of your cities where poor, sick, suffering people lie on beds of anguish. Men and women, and sometimes little children, are taken there to find relief from pain and fever, or perhaps to die and go to the spirit world. Kind nurses and doctors do all they can for these sick people, but, ah, they do not know how they are assisted by the little spirits who, like Flora, take their tiny harps and play upon them, or set them where the breeze can sweep over them, thus invoking sweet sounds that are heard by the spirit ears of the sufferers, and which lull their fevered fancies or soothe their burning pain.
I will tell you of one case where great good was accomplished by our little friend Flora. A strong man lay very ill in the hospital ward. His brain seemed to be on fire, for all the fever which had attacked his system had mounted there. His suffering was intense, his ravings were terrible to listen to; he had been given up to die by the doctors,—that is, they could do nothing to save his life. Dear little Flora visited the side of this man constantly. She had placed her spirit-harp above his cot, and the faint breeze that was allowed to circulate around it was sufficient to cause a vibration of the strings of the instrument. Time passed; the man grew worse and worse; the physicians were compelled to minister opiates to him to ease his sufferings. At length, when he had succumbed to the power of the drug, he sank away into a deep stupor; but though his outer senses were numb, his spirit-hearing was alive. Sounds from the spirit-harp fell upon his hearing, perceiving which Flora began to sing a soft, sweet melody. The man listened and grew calm and quiet. The doctors watching his sleeping form, dreaded its awakening; but when the patient did arouse from his slumber, it was with cooled brain and stilled pulse. “Doctor,” he cried, “I have seen an angel; I have heard her sing to me; I shall get well!”
The physician smiled at what he considered the fancy of a sick brain; but the patient did recover his health and strength. From the day when he first heard the spiritual music, and listened to Flora’s singing, he began to grow better, until he was pronounced well by the doctors. But he was a long time regaining his strength, and every time he fell into slumber Flora’s harp would strike upon his hearing, and very often he would hear the sound of her voice in song. These moments always gave him power, rested him, brought him new strength, and thus his spirit was enabled to overcome the weakness and pain of the body. He recovered his health, and became also a firm believer in the power of angels to relieve the sickness and sufferings of mortals.
In the same hospital where the sick man was cured of his fever, through the power of Flora and her harp, many other suffering persons also have been blessed and aided in various ways by the same ministering power. I will now tell you about a young woman who lay there wasting away with consumption. This patient could not be restored to bodily health, either by mortals or spirits; nor was it desirable that she should be, for life had been hard for her. The world had been very cruel, and she had suffered much. The only hope for her happiness would be in passing away to the bright Summer-land, where she would find friends, kindness, and home. But she did not know about these things as we do, dear children, and she did not want to “die;” she did not want to leave the body, for she dreaded the Beyond.
Well, this woman—I will call her Lizzie—suffered agony of mind in thinking of death, and little Flora felt great compassion for her. She sought in every way to influence the mind of Lizzie with bright and happy thoughts. She would sing to her, place her harp where its music might possibly be heard, and in many ways endeavor to bring comfort to the weary girl. At length, when Lizzie had become so weak and pallid that it seemed as though the soul must part with the body, her inner hearing was opened, and the music of the tiny harp fell upon it. She listened,—listened, oh, so intently. Soon a smile lighted up her wan features; it was, indeed, heavenly music to her. In a little while she heard a voice in sweet, childish tones singing these words:—
“We are coming, we are coming,
With our spirits filled with love,
To guide thy weary footsteps
To our Father’s home above;