American poetry -- 19th century; Spiritualism -- Poetry
differently. There are various cups which Humanity must drink of, and
“baptisms which it must be baptized with,” and this manifestation of
Truth, of which I am but one of the humble representatives, has laid its
controlling hand upon me; for what purpose, in the mysterious results
which lie concealed in the future, I cannot tell--I only know that it is
so.
Looking back upon my experience, I cannot doubt that I--with many
others--was destined to this phase of development, and designed for this
peculiar work, before I knew conscious being. My brain was fashioned,
and my nervous system finely strung, so that I should inevitably catch
the thrill of the innumerable voices resounding through the universe,
and translate their messages into human language, as coherently and
clearly as my imperfections would allow. The early influences of my
childhood, the experiences of later years, and more than all, that
unutterable yearning for Beauty and Harmony, which I felt dimly
conscious was somewhere in the universe, all tended to drive me back
from the world, which would not and could not give me what I asked, to
the revelations of my inner life,--to the “Heaven within me.” It was
only through the cultivation of my spiritual nature that “spiritual
things were to be discerned,” and the stern necessity of my life was the
Teacher which finally educated me into the perception of Truth.
I turn back to the memories of my childhood--to that long course of
trying experiences through which I passed, guided by strange and
invisible influences; and that whole course of discipline has for me now
a peculiar significance. Those who were near and dear to me, and who
were most familiar with my habits of life, knew little of my intense
spiritual experience. I was too much afraid of being ridiculed and
misunderstood to dare give any expression to the strange and indefinable
emotions within me. Such ones, however, may call to mind the child who
often, through the long winter evenings, sat in profound silence by the
fireside, with her head and face enveloped in her apron, to exclude, as
far as possible, all external sight and sound. What I heard and saw then
but dimly returns to me; but even then the revelations from the “Heaven
within” had commenced, and succeeding years have so strengthened and
confirmed my vision, that such scenes have become to me living truths
and blessed realities. The “Heaven” that “lay about me in my infancy”
sent its rich glow through my childhood, and sheds its mystic brightness
upon the pathway of my riper years.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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