Imagine, if you can, all the most graceful, beautifully-molded, perfectly-formed and rounded, exquisitely carved and delicately-sculptured forms of statuary, of which you have ever heard or read grouped together, forming a class of the rarest workmanship and art that human skill and genius can chisel from the marble block, and you have a slight idea of the superb expression of the sculptor’s soul which is perfected in the immortal world. Dream, if you can, of the most magnificent scenery the world affords, the most royal landscapes, the most superb water views, and you may be able to just approach in thought an idea of the productions of the artist’s soul that line the walls of the artists’ studio in spirit life.
Recollect all the sweet, the beautiful, and the various expressions of the human countenance,—the fire, the vigor, and sparkling triumph of the eye, the restless energy or quiet repose of the limbs, the smiling, speaking expression of the lips,—and you can faintly conceive the models and patterns that spirit artists and sculptors seek to emulate. And have they succeeded? To a certain extent, decidedly, yes.
Enter a hall of statuary, and in the marble beauties, grouped together there, you find the expression of peace, hope, or joy depicted with marvelous fidelity; you observe the contour of the limbs as perfect as in life, and all seemingly permeated with that indescribable something that gives them the appearance of having the power to move, act, and walk off at will.
Upon entering the artists’ studio, at the farther end of which is suspended a magnificent landscape painting, you would, at first sight, believe yourself to be gazing upon a scene of natural life and beauty. The lights and shadows seem to be continually shifting, the trees to be waving their branches, and the streamlet running along in murmuring gladness. The clouds appear to be settling slowly down upon the distant mountains, while it distinctly seems to you that the cattle, grazing in the meadows, are moving lazily along, half wearied out by the incessant buzzing of the hovering insects.
So it is with the music of the upper life. It approaches as near the harmonious, perfect blending of the various parts of the human voice as can be imagined; and the utterances of the poets partake of the life of the giver, and are animated with true fire and vigor, which is of itself a part of that Eternal Voice that is the author and sustainer of all life and being.
But these spirit artists are by no means satisfied with what they have produced; they see something grander, more beautiful, sublime, and perfect, which they are striving to attain. Their ideal is as yet unexpressed; but, with the perfect development of the soul and its possibilities, all that is ever dreamed of must find expression in the outworkings of the spirit.
But I have found that, with all its striving to emulate and express the workings of Nature, in its perfect form, that the soul of the true artist, poet, and songster finds its keenest delight in stamping its poems, paintings, and songs upon the receptive human mind that is ready to receive; that the true poet breathes his fiery inspirations upon the slumbering soul, awakening it to life and activity, bringing to it an enjoyment and appreciation of the beauties of the inner life, and of the splendors of natural creation; that the true artist paints in glowing colors on the sensitive souls of mortals a beautiful landscape of the higher life, which arouses those souls to a realizing sense of the beautiful, and develops within them an ideal, for which they will ever strive; that the true musician and singer sends his sweet strains echoing through the souls of mortals, developing their sweetest, noblest powers, to bless and enrich the musical world; and that the true sculptor finds his delight in molding and carving out the possibilities of those he can approach, of chiseling and chipping away all that is detrimental to the spirit’s growth, and bringing forth to light an angel of power and beauty from the rough, unpolished mass of individuality. In short, that the workers of the higher life do not find enjoyment in bringing their own productions to earth, but their highest blessing and privilege is in being able to impress, work upon, and guide the hidden, inner powers of souls in mortal forms until they develop the beauty and glory within them, and awaken their spirits to an understanding of beautiful life, an appreciation of the good and true, and a knowledge of the possibility of the power that is theirs.
Not alone were my visits confined to the Temple of Art; although attracted to that place by the laws of sympathy and association, yet my desire to gain knowledge and a comprehension of truth led me, in company with other inquiring minds, to visit the Spiritual Congress, and to pay marked attention to the learned and honorable body there assembled, and busily employed in devising various schemes for the enlightenment, amelioration, and welfare of humanity; to visit the Wisdom Circles, and receive enlightenment upon the laws governing life and its unfoldments; and to visit our medical colleges and learn of the true method, not of curing disease, but of preventing sickness and preserving health. And I tell you that humanity on earth have yet to learn more of medical and legal jurisprudence than has ever been dreamed of by mortals.
But I must draw this narrative to a close. I might go on multiplying my experiences almost ad infinitum had I the time and space; but such has not been my object in coming. I have endeavored to show you how a spirit, weighed down by its consciousness of misspent days and misapplied powers and energies, bowed down by its load of past wrong-doing and follies, darkened by its work neglected, and duties unfulfilled, may be able, by the desire of his own soul, and the aid and sympathy of others, to rise out of his darkened condition into the light, to work his salvation from sin and his way to righteousness. But it was no easy task. I have not given you an account of all the fiery temptations that assailed me in my search for the better life, or the bitter struggles my soul passed through ere it became the master.
Through devious ways and tortuous paths the soul must pass that has done wrong to itself and others; but if it is in earnest in its desire to become better, if it craves strength and aid from the higher powers, if it reaches its aspirations out toward the better, purer, grander life of the spirit, be sure that it must and will succeed.