The fruitage will come in its season, A reward for your toil and your care; Then see that those in the shadow A part of your harvest shall share. This is the voice of the spirit To brothers and sisters below: “Be sure, while you dwell in the mortal, To water and weed as you go.” Shortly after the physical decease of that grand man, Wm. Lloyd Garrison, John Critchley Prince wrote the following sketch,—through the instrumentality of his regular medium,—which was published in the _Voice of Angels_, June 15, 1879, and afterward copied into _Mind and Matter_:— THE WELCOME ANGELS GIVE. I have recently had the good fortune to witness a scene, the impressiveness and grandeur of which only those who are unencumbered by the corporeal body, and who are _all_ spirit, _all_ sense, _all_ perception, can fully realize. This scene was the spirit reception, the angelic welcome given to one of life’s noblest heroes, one of the whitest, grandest souls that has ever trod the pathway of mortal existence; and though I cannot hope to convey to earth other than a faint portrayal of the scene, yet I will attempt in this instance to give my readers some idea of the welcome angels give. After more than the three-score years and ten of earthly existence and experience, William Lloyd Garrison, the friend of the oppressed, the defender of right, the champion of freedom, calmly, quietly, and peacefully laid down the burden of mortality, and rising, grand, majestic, free, a spirit filled with power, passed into the realms of eternal light. In company with a band of kindred spirits, among whom I may mention my friend Robert Burns, Felicia Hemans, and Elizabeth B. Browning,—noble souls all, who had wept tears of sadness over the oppressed, even while tuning their harps to sweeter melody for freedom’s sake,—I was privileged to witness a spirit reception given to this ascended hero; not the greeting given by the nearest and dearest of the heart, that was too sacred for even the eyes of sympathizing spirit friends, who had no claim upon his love, but the meeting of kindred souls, who had trod the same paths of truth, waded the same seas of opposition and danger, and borne the same battle-flag of freedom on to victory.