AN ECHO FROM THE SUMMER-LAND.
The Summer-land is so near to this mundane sphere of yours, my friends,
that I am often led to question why it is you cannot often hear the
sounds of its busy, active life. But I know that the din and bustle, the
cares, turmoils, and perplexities of mortal existence have dulled your
hearing, and sealed your senses to the beautiful, internal, ever-new
life and activities of the spiritual universe, and that only in a few
instances can you sense the presence and power of invisible, potent
beings.
But I have to record one instance of perception of spiritual things,
that I may term an echo from the Summer-land; an echo that brought
music, heart-ease and peace to two weary, suffering human hearts, yet
encased in the temple of flesh.
Recently a rare case of suffering and devotion has come to my knowledge.
A woman, young in years, yet a mother and widow, was struggling on in
spite of want, poverty, and pain, seeking to earn a subsistence for her
two children, grew weary, faint, and exhausted, when her little ones
were taken from her without a moment’s warning, and hurried into the
spirit world by what you of earth call an accident. They were together
at play, when an embankment caved in and buried them beneath its ruins.
The poor mother was nearly wild with grief. She became ill, and in a
little time it was found that she could never see again. The shock to
her system, together with previous exhaustion from over-work, had
paralyzed the optic nerve, and she was blind.
Upon a lower floor of the humble tenement where this poor woman lived
dwelt another, a noble soul, one who had seen better days, but had also
been brought to a condition of extreme poverty by the hand of adversity.
This was a poor, middle-aged woman, who was employed as night-nurse at a
public hospital in the city. She had always presented a kindly, friendly
manner to the widow and her children, but nothing of a special nature
had been observed.
Suddenly, however, as the terrible catastrophe that hurled the two
children into eternity occurred, this woman seemed to arouse to the
distress of her neighbor; and when it was found that the poor woman was
ill and in need, all the heroism of her nature was called forth. She
hastened to the bedside of the suffering one, nursed and attended to her
wants with rare devotion, neglected her own comfort for the sake of her
neighbor, and finally gave up her situation at the hospital, in order to
be with her at all times her presence was required.
At the time of the accident, as the situation of the poor mother became
known, a few sympathetic persons contributed certain sums of money for
her relief; but in a little while these became exhausted, and she was
again penniless; then did the kind nurse take prompt action. Not content
with caring for the sufferer, she brought her down to her own more
comfortable apartments, shared her little store with her while it
lasted, and watched and tended her like a mother caring for a well-loved
child.
But the invalid was unhappy, aye, wildly unhappy. Her children dead, her
home broken up, herself bereft of sight, a weak, miserable wreck of her
former self, dependent upon the bounty of another, and that other a poor
woman, almost a stranger,—what had she left to live for? Surely nothing,
she thought, and daily she longed and prayed for death to come to her
deliverance.
Before a great while, however, the slender resources of our nurse had
given out; then it was that she sought and obtained a kind of cheap
needle-work that she could take home, and at the same time attend to the
wants of her charge.
These were dark days. Poverty, hunger, and cold sometimes stared them in
the face; but still the noble woman faltered not in her labors of love,
nor ceased to speak cheeringly and encouragingly to the helpless invalid
she had chosen to burden herself with.
THE LESSON OF SELF-SACRIFICE.
Let me here pause to comment upon the noble, self-sacrificing spirit of
this humble nurse. Impecunious herself, she could yet find something to
spare for another; but far more than this, she could deprive herself of
the necessities of life, and devote her time, attention and care to one
who had no claim upon her, save as she appealed to the sympathies of a
tender soul. Risking want and suffering for herself, she gave up her
only means of support in order to be able to care for that other, and
finally took that other into her own home, shared with her her own
little all, depriving herself of health, strength, and much that makes
life bearable, to comfort and sustain her charge. Can human love do more
than this? Is spirit love more tender, more self-denying, more
beautiful?
The Nazarene said: “As ye have done it unto one of the least of these,
ye have done it unto me;” and again, “Greater love hath no man than
this, that he lay down his life for another.” But better than the
sacrifice of life is the constant denial of self, that continually
blesses another at the expense of the individual.
Oh, Spiritualists, heed the lesson of this woman’s work as revealed to
you in these pages; heed it well, for by such labors is the soul brought
into communion with the angels and fitted to enjoy the blessings of
heavenly life.
There are thousands of human hearts pining for some one to love, and for
some one to love them; would they but look around them, and take an
active, sympathetic interest in their fellow-creatures, they would
speedily find some one to love, and would win a soul’s affection in
return.
DAYS OF DARKNESS.
The days sped away, bringing only poverty and want to the little humble
home. The brave woman fought nobly to keep the wolf from the door, but
with ill success. The invalid still lay exhausted, weak and sightless, a
helpless burden, constantly pining for a release that did not come.
Dark and dreary seemed the days before them; friends they had none, and
their neighbors took no notice of them. Still the brave nurse resisted
the sick woman’s plea to be sent away; well did she know that unkindness
and neglect would become the portion of that suffering one, did she heed
her request, and so she struggled on until the hour of which I write.
It would seem that human distress could go no further. It had been a day
of suffering untold. Hunger, cold, and darkness settled down upon that
little home, as the shades of night closed in upon a dreary March day.
The last morsel of food had disappeared, the last stick of wood burned
the day before.
Silence fell upon the inmates of that little room, for their anxiety and
care were too great for words. A sense of feeling like despair settled
upon their hearts; it seemed that the burden of life was too great to be
borne.
WORDS OF CHEER FROM THE SPIRIT LAND.
Suddenly, through the stillness and darkness, there came a faint, sweet
sound of children’s voices; like a far-off echo from some unseen land it
fell, swelling louder and louder, until the tones could be distinctly
heard, and these words sung in chorus floated upon the quiet atmosphere
of that little room, made holy by the spirit of tender love and
abnegation:—
“We come, we come from the Summer-land,
Our earthly friends to greet;
We come a happy, joyous band,
With blessings pure and sweet;
We bring you peace from Heaven above,
Where sorrows never come:
We call your spirits with our love
To their eternal home.”
A hush of holy quiet now fell upon the tortured hearts of the two women;
peace indeed entered their souls, for in those angelic tones they
recognized familiar voices,—the one, those of her two children, who had
been so recently snatched away from her; the other, that of a beautiful
boy who, years before, at the tender age of four years, had been called
home to the angels, leaving her almost crazed with pain and grief.
The instance here recorded was the first echo our friends caught from
the Summer-land,—nothing more, nothing less than that one little verse
sang in the familiar tones of their departed children, and which were
recognized as those of the voices of loved ones gone before.
Want of space compels me to be brief with my narrative. I must not dwell
on the long, hard, cold winter which these two women were called upon to
endure; I will only state that on the day following the blessed evening
that brought such great comfort and peace to their weary hearts our good
nurse succeeded in finding a little work, which continued from time to
time, and yielded just enough income to purchase the plainest
necessities of life.
Many times did these two women feel the pangs of hunger and cold; many
times during that relentless winter did they almost despair of keeping
life in the body; but after events proved these bitter experiences to
have been refining, spiritualizing, and unfolding to their natures.
For two months after the spiritual experience which I have recorded
occurred nothing more was heard or felt of a like character; yet the
memory of that one beautiful hour lingered in the hearts of those women,
and caused them often to speak in rejoicing tones of it. But at last the
time came when our poor, sightless invalid began to hear whispered words
and sweet sounds; lights of golden and azure hue flitted before her
eyes, and finally she beheld smiling faces and shining forms,—first
those of her dear children and departed husband, then others that she
recognized as those of dear ones who had passed from earth life years
before; and, at length, strange individuals, whom she did not know, yet
who smiled upon her, bringing her messages of encouragement, hope and
cheer.
Her faithful companion and friend had become obliged to leave the
invalid daily for a few hours, in order to earn the trifle which she
could obtain by menial service to others, and it was during these lonely
hours that she beheld the glowing forms and listened to the spirit
utterances of which I write.
Many an evening then did the two women spend in happiness together—the
one in relating her pleasant spiritual experiences of the day, the other
in listening eagerly to them; and though cold and hunger sometimes
nipped them severely, yet there were no two happier beings in all that
large city, for they had spiritual meat to eat, which others knew not
of.
In describing some of the strange visitants who came to her, and
mentioning the words they uttered, our invalid was delighted to find
that they were recognized by her companion; and now a double joy was
theirs, for through the unfolded medial powers of one, both were enabled
to hold sweet and loving communion with their dear ones in the spirit
world.
THE MISTS CLEARING AWAY.
It was a clear, cold Sabbath day in March; our friends were seated
together in their humble room, conversing on spiritual things, when a
rap upon the door of their apartment startled them,—for visitors they
had none,—and in answer to the invitation “Come in,” a lady, clothed in
heavy and costly apparel, entered. The lady proved to be the wife of a
wealthy Spiritualist. She had been directed to this humble abode by the
spirit of her child, who had told her, through a medium, that there she
would find manifold evidences of spirit existence, and a medium of great
power, poor and unknown, in need of assistance.
The events proved these statements to be true; for hardly had the lady
entered than the medium beheld a bright light shining all around, and
standing in this light were many spirits who spoke their names to her,
and whispered messages of hope, coupled with words and sentences
concerning their identity; and a power she could not withstand impelled
her to describe those spirits and to repeat their words aloud. The
visitor wept for joy at receiving such tokens of spirit power and
presence; she recognized the spirits, both by their description and
words, and for a time it seemed as though heaven had descended to earth,
and was chiefly known in that almost barren home.
You may be sure the lady insisted on paying the poor, blind woman
liberally for her services as medium that day, and departed promising to
visit her again in a short time. And not only did she keep her promise,
but sent her friends to the poor woman to receive a spiritual baptism.
Not one went away disappointed; all were gratified with what they
received, and paid for it with willing hearts. At length the visitors
became so numerous that the good nurse found herself obliged to remain
at home to attend to her charge and those who came daily.
Instead of the spiritual power lessening, it seemed to increase, and the
medium grew strong and happy. All care of the morrow passed away, and
the two friends now began to reap the harvest of their weary-watching
and patient trust in God. Our good nurse found sweet compensation for
all her hours of toil, self-denial and sacrifice; for she had not only
some one to love and to love her, but the daily companionship of angels,
and likewise the comforts that material means can furnish.
In a short time, our friends were enabled to remove from their humble
abode to a neat brick house in the heart of the city, which they
furnished with taste and an eye to comfort. Here business grew and
thrived; here the two women lived and blessed each other, the one by
providing means of existence, as well as imparting spiritual light, the
other in tender helpfulness and care for her companion. And today these
two individuals reside in one of your large cities, honored and
respected by all who know them.
The spiritual work goes on; the medium has never regained her sight, but
she is no longer the pale, emaciated, despairing being she once was.
Angel friends have saved her from a living death, and she delights to
impart their blessing unto others. She has never been obliged to
advertise for business, for she has all she can attend to; and it is not
for the wealthy alone she sits, for many a poor soul has received
spiritual bounty from her, without money and without price; while it is
the delight of our dear old nurse, strong and hearty in her well-doing,
to minister to the bodily comforts of those who are in needy
circumstances.
Occasionally she, too, listens to the sound of angel voices, and it
makes her heart rejoice; but her grand work seems to be in caring for
others.