Class J BT/ 1 5 Jul 
 Book., 6 6*3 73" 
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 COHRIGHT DEPOSIE 
 
THIS BOOK FOR HIM 
 
 I NAME 
 
 FOR JESUS' SAKE 
 
 BY 
 SHAKESPEARE'S SPIRIT 
 
■ S557-5- 
 
 TORCH PRESS, INC. 
 
 Copyrighted 1920 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 ©CI.A601504 
 
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produced by 
 
 The Schilling Press, Inc. 
 
 new york city 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Shakespeare's Confession of Faith 7 
 
 To Sinners 9 
 
 Pause. The Prayers of Shakespeare's Soul i 10 
 
 To Catholics and Protestants. All the Clergy, Including Rabbis.. 11 
 
 The Pall 12 
 
 Shepherd Holy, God of Hosts , 13 
 
 Father of the Lowly Born ,. .i 13 
 
 Mary, Sanctified Mother of God 14 
 
 My God, From Whom All Blessings Flow 14 
 
 Lamb of God, Redeemer 15 
 
 Praise Be To Thee, Most High. 15 
 
 Mary, Mother of Our Lord 16 
 
 Father of Eternal Time \. .i 16 
 
 Holy, Holy, Holy, Thou 17 
 
 Thou, Lord, Who Wore a Martyr's Crown 17 
 
 Father of the Lost Lamb 18 
 
 Holy Spirit, in Whose Name 18 
 
 God of the Living Martyrs Here 19 
 
 O Justice, God, Equality 19 
 
 O Wisdom, On Whom We Rely 20 
 
 Supernal Love, Upon Whose Breast i 21 
 
 Great Artist of the World, and Worlds 21 
 
 Infinite Spirit, Holy Ghost .i 22 
 
 Rabboni, Anoint Me Thine Own 23 
 
 Healer of Sorrow and Pain , 24 
 
 Infinite Light, Thou Who Didst Descend Into Hell's Darkness .... 24 
 
 God of Song, We Praise Thee , 25 
 
 Fountain of Life, Eternal Source 26 
 
 Great Architect, Thy Temples Loom Both To, and From, Thy Sky 26 
 
 My God, My Only Father Here ( 27 
 
 Our Father in Heaven, Who Art Here This Hour 28 
 
 God of Life, Who Giveth, and Taketh, Breath 29 
 
 Highest, Mightiest, Saintliest Power , ... 30 
 
 O Merciful Judge, Pardon-Giving 31 
 
 Restorer Invisible, At Thy Word , 32 
 
 Our Father, Judge, At Last 33 
 
 Father, In Thy House I Serve 34 
 
 Enduring, Present, Living Source 35 
 
 Jehovah, Lord of Hosts ■..'., 36 
 
 Master-Mechanic, God, Creator . . . 37 
 
 Providence, Thou Great Restorer 38 
 
 Guardian, Keeper, of My Soul 39 
 
 Infinite Breast, On Whose Mercy We Lean 39 
 
 Eternal Verity, One God 39 
 
 Master-Mathematician, Computor 40 
 
 Botanist of Life, Flower of the Kingdom 41 
 
 God of Wrath, Hurricanes, Torrents* 42 
 
 God of the Rocks, Gem-Studded 43 
 
 God of the Harlot, Whoreson, Adulterer 44 
 
 My Last Plea for Men. My Soul's Plea ,..,,.. 45 
 
REPENTANCE. The Act of Contrition. His Call 46 
 
 Ninety-Nine. 99 48 
 
 His Immaculate One SO 
 
 Why? Answered. By My Immortal Spirit, Shade, Ghost, Soul 
 
 of Me, Shakespeare 53 
 
 Continuous Life 56 
 
 The Mission of Man 58 
 
 What Is the Meaning of It All? 60 
 
 Evolution. Is It His Design ? 61 
 
 To God's Immortals : From One of His 63 
 
 The Peace of God, Where IS It To Be Found? 65 
 
 The Maker's Riddles 68 
 
 The Philosophy of Life 70 
 
 The Opprobrious Word, MEDIUM 73 
 
 Wisdom's Tools. To All Producers of Pictures or Plays 75 
 
 "Deliver Us From Evil" (Jesus of Nazareth) 77 
 
 'Thy Kingdom Come" 78 
 
 "Thy Kingdom Come" : Jesus 78 
 
 "Forgive Us Our Trespasses AS We Forgive Those Who Tres- 
 pass." Jesus 79 
 
 His Promise 80 
 
 "Thy Will Be Done On Earth As It Is In Heaven." Jesus 81 
 
 "Hallowed Be Thy Name." Jesus 82 
 
 And What IS Spiritualism? 83 
 
 Science versus Religion. By Shakespeare's Immortal Spirit 85 
 
 The Anointed 88 
 
 A Voice in the Wilderness 89 
 
 "Neither Do I Tell You By What Authority I Do These Things." 
 
 (Jesus of Nazareth) 93 
 
 Questions Answered by Shakespeare's Spirit 96 
 
 Reason 99 
 
 While Wisdom Waits 99 
 
 His Verities 100 
 
 The Soul's Song 100 
 
 Beyond the Veil 101 
 
 My Favorite Form . . . . . 101 
 
 Sayings of W. S. in Spirit 102 
 
 OUR WEDDED SELVES 103 
 
 To One I Will Name Later 104 
 
 Sonnet : When "Death" Hath Laid Us By, Still We Live On 105 
 
 I Thank Thee For Making the Rose 105 
 
 A Spirit's Record 106 
 
 A Soul's Defeat 109 
 
 To Torch-Bearers 110 
 
 "Let the Dead Bury Their Dead." For Spiritualists 117 
 
 "Neither Do I Condemn Thee, Go, and Sin No More." Jesus 121 
 
 The Dropped Stitch. "E. B. B." 123 
 
 Sonnet : For Truth and God Who IS True 124 
 
 "For If I Go To My Father, I Will Draw ALL Men Unto Me." 
 
 Jesus 124 
 
 Seventy Times Seven 127 
 
 The Power of God , . . 131 
 
SHAKESPEARE'S CONFESSION OF FAITH 
 
 Dictated by His Soul to His Medium, to Be Included in His 
 Work, Named by His Soul, "FOR JESUS' SAKE." 
 
 Sunday, Sept. 12th, 1920. 
 New York. 
 
 I would include a profession of my religion in the book I 
 name for Him. So write. 
 
 My faith, being doubted, as an Englishman, I would lay 
 this topic low. So now. 
 
 I am Catholic, have been since my birth. Raised by a 
 devout woman of this faith, whose principles, had I but 
 followed with profit to my soul, I should be making sonnets 
 for my Maker's lute instead of mine own. 
 
 I am English still, ay, man, if you choose, for we lose 
 nothing here that we were, be sure. Yet, to tell more of 
 my faith. 
 
 In those fargone days of clay and blood my soul was 
 bickering ever for the truth in me, fought me continually, 
 to be hushed to silence, for the times were unpropitious for 
 one of Her sons to outspeak against Her aims. My time 
 shortened abruptly. As my family knew we spoke of God 
 in Catholic terms ever, reverenced Him in His way, yet 
 followed in blindness a separate altar set up within our 
 home that the world might not acclaim us traitorous to 
 England, Dear Motherland. 
 
 I now regret my subversion to intricacies unprofitable. 
 Nevermore would I sacrifice on Her altar, even Hers, my 
 very soul, the God part here this day, alas but here. 
 
 To one of God's who writes this down for me, who cannot 
 reach the world from my stage today except it be through 
 her, do I offer here more than a tribute of gratitude, a soul's 
 praises. 
 
 No harp could play a spirit's tune were it not strung for 
 the purpose through spirit's application. Ay, my fingers, 
 
mind as well, made this one perfect concert pitch before 
 we e'er began my work for me. To hold a wire and pipe a 
 lay were easy for one of earth's composers. But ye'll know 
 the truth some day from spirit where I do now play hereon, 
 of spirit's compositions. 
 
 To declare my faith, my soul, to be His, founded on the 
 rock of God through Jesus His only Son, given to Peter by 
 Him to represent Him, whose sins of mortals should be 
 forgiven forever, else retained, through confession, re- 
 pentance absolute, contrition yea the very act, I do here 
 subscribe my soul His through His mercy this day, having 
 followed as He bade me, recovered the lost, wiped out the 
 error of my past through His Name for Jesus' sake. For 
 His Holy cause. 
 
 Sign my full name. 
 
 William Shakespeare, Poet, Gentleman. 
 Residence, Stratford on Avon, England, 
 Whose spirit am I. The same, except 
 for my soul's tears. 
 
 (Through Sarah) 
 
TO SINNERS 
 
 Have worlds so changed since Jesus taught, 
 
 None care if God sent Him or not? 
 
 Or, if He came to save, or died 
 
 Spiked, thorn-crowned, pierced, ay, crucified, 
 
 And mocked, reviled, paid He the cost 
 
 For souls He bought, lest they be lost? 
 
 Have sinners changed since Jesus bled, 
 
 And rose in spirit with His dead 
 
 And undefiled, perfect clay 
 
 Was lifted in His Father's way, 
 
 As He saw fit to raise His Son 
 
 Who bore that cross: "His Will Be Done," 
 
 That we who speak past mortal clay 
 For sinners foul who fail to pay 
 While that may pay to Him a part, 
 A tithe, an atom, to His Heart 
 Whose every pulse-beat, in each frame, 
 Should vibrate with His sacred Name ! 
 
 Here cursed mortals cling to lust, 
 And "die," as everybody must. 
 Then do we know who came to plea 
 The cause of Him Who can make free, 
 As here we write, unseen, but heard 
 By her who speaks my spirit-word 
 
 To warn all living who doth care 
 Where Jesus went, if ye fare there? 
 Or, if ye wander homeless here 
 Where spirits live past grave or bier! 
 Say not 'tis evil, but His plan, 
 That thus my spirit speaks to man. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 9 
 
PAUSE 
 
 By Shakespeare's Spirit 
 
 (Through the medium of his pen, the same who took to 
 dictation the spirit's MMS. "Shakespeare's Revelation," by 
 Shakespeare's Spirit.) 
 
 * 
 
 10 
 
TO CATHOLICS AND PROTESTANTS— 
 All the Clergy, Including Rabbis 
 
 To those who fear communion with the so-called "dead," 
 
 Lest their discovery vie against their creed, 
 
 I say, who speak past mortal claim of "dying," 
 
 If ye believed in faith your several teachers, 
 
 Applied their balance to adjust YOUR need, 
 
 Revering none who spoke not with their numbers, 
 
 Acclaimed naught but the one unshaved beard, 
 
 And lived as taught by Him, or taught of ANY, 
 
 Adjusting here a self-God found within, 
 
 Still might ye weigh in One eternal balance, 
 
 If humbly here ye served, nor *supped with sin. 
 
 To all who know themselves past ANY reasoning, 
 
 A SOUL'S PART, then, would not be true. 
 
 But when a spirit points, beware derision, 
 
 Lest, UNWARNED BY a soul, your part ye'll rue. 
 
 I peep beneath the cassocks in the pulpit, — 
 
 I listen to confessions to the priest, — 
 
 I see the snarls, hard-tied, to make a sovereign : 
 
 The money-changer's evil's not the least! 
 
 I read the thoughts of mortals, played as music 
 
 On keys of ivory: jangling, most of these, — 
 
 I know how teachers teach for fear THEY perish, 
 
 Who give to flocks the literature THEY please. 
 
 Could habits COVER SOULS, where we inherit 
 
 The soul each sinner finds himself to be, 
 
 I could have passed along without inscribing 
 
 For mortals what I found, deep branded, on the soul of ME. 
 
 Where HABITS cover naught, the soul's revealed: 
 
 Shaved or unshaven is each SOUL on High: 
 
 For this, I came past thunders, wars, through suffering, 
 
 To warn, POINT, SAVE, the clergy, ere THEY "die." 
 
 *"Supped" first written "walked." 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 11 
 
THE PALL 
 
 There is a tomb where Jesus lay, 
 
 Who rose, who carried in His clay 
 
 A form Divine, by Spirit given, 
 
 And taken, WITH His Son, to heaven. 
 
 His Son, Who came to bear the cross, 
 
 Establish here no pain is loss 
 
 If He, eternal as His Name, 
 
 Could rise on High, from whence He came. 
 
 His eyes beheld the spirits here : 
 
 Those, who before Him, passed the bier. 
 
 His counsel wise He left, He heard, 
 
 As mortals hear the spirit-word. 
 
 Then revelation I have writ 
 
 Is less a miracle, than fit 
 
 To tell the world there is no pall 
 
 Can hide the spirits, One, or all. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 12 
 
II. 
 
 SHEPHERD HOLY, GOD OF HOSTS, 
 Kneel we here this day- 
 Praising Thee Who sent Thy Son 
 To wash all sin away. 
 We search within this living tomb 
 Of her of mortal clay, 
 That we may be all purified 
 Where His are blest for aye, 
 Beyond the sphere of mortal birth 
 Where Love's own pulse holds sway, 
 Where IS the kingdom of the King 
 Whom all must serve, or pay 
 The ransom of a whoreson's past, 
 As I pay here today. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 FATHER OF THE LOWLY BORN, 
 
 (No humbler one than He: 
 
 A manger was His cradle 
 
 Who fulfilled Thy destiny) 
 
 Make US humble as the Lord, 
 
 If we MUST suffer loss ; 
 
 And give us courage when we "die", 
 
 Spiked even, to Thy cross, 
 
 That, if Thy Will Be Done, at last, 
 
 Then blest indeed be we. 
 
 If we HAVE worn a crown of thorns, 
 
 Blest Calvary WITH Thee. 
 
 * 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 13 
 
III. 
 
 MARY, SANCTIFIED MOTHER OF GOD, 
 
 Blest is the fruit of thy womb, 
 
 Torn from thy side by the traitorous mob, 
 
 And laid as but dust in the tomb. 
 
 Blest be the eyes that see as YE saw ; 
 
 Blessed ears that revered the Saint's word, 
 
 And pondered them secretly, deep in the heart: 
 
 For ye knew ye had seen, ay, and heard. 
 
 The Spirit of God, with His word (who shall say) 
 
 Commanded the stone of His tomb rolled away, 
 
 Who GAVE Him the spirit to rise FROM the clay. 
 
 Both sinners AND saints bear witness for aye. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 IV. 
 
 MY GOD, FROM WHOM ALL BLESSINGS FLOW, 
 
 Eternal Father, Thou, 
 
 Behold us prostrate at Thy feet, 
 
 To Whose edict we bow. 
 
 And see the gaping, unhealed wounds 
 
 In all souls here on earth. 
 
 "Thy Will Be Done" : but succour US, 
 
 And give each soul new birth, 
 
 That He Who came at Thy behest 
 
 To cleanse from carnal sin, 
 
 May gather to His Holy Home 
 
 The lost, and let them in. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 14 
 
V. 
 
 VI. 
 
 LAMB OF GOD, REDEEMER, 
 
 Crucified, and Blest, 
 
 Shepherd of the lost sheep, 
 
 Bring, and give, souls rest. 
 
 Fountain head of sorrow, 
 
 Purity Divine, 
 
 Behold mine empty beaker, 
 
 This parched soul of mine. 
 
 Crystallize the river 
 
 Of souls ! Foul, muddy stream 
 
 Of men without a Leader, 
 
 Of hearts without a beam, 
 
 Stagnant as earth's marshes, 
 
 O'ercovered with such slime 
 
 Thou, alone, CANST purify, 
 
 Or lead to realms sublime. 
 
 Give the cross and banner! 
 
 Rally fife and drum ! 
 
 Every soul discarnate 
 
 Would help "Thy Kingdom Come. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 PRAISE BE TO THEE, MOST HIGH ; 
 Who sees all hearts revealed. 
 Whose everlasting judgment saved 
 The Spirit no tomb sealed. 
 Who pardons by the grace He gives 
 Repentant sinners then, 
 Who claims He gave His only Son 
 To make them clean again. 
 O GOD, adjust frail human scales 
 With Thine Immortal Heart. 
 And bless each soul Thy Wisdom planned 
 To play its Divine part. 
 * 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 15 
 
VII. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 MARY, MOTHER OF OUR LORD, 
 Whose Son God sent to "die" 
 That blistering sin should leave no scar, 
 If trusting Him on High. 
 O womb unsealed for Jesus' sake, 
 That God might my Redeemed be, 
 Holy of Holies in Thine Heart 
 That kept His secret word to free 
 The world of doubters of His Word, 
 His plans, and visions, all Divine, 
 Who gave each child a Mother's heart 
 That held a love, like His, sublime. 
 * 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 FATHER OF ETERNAL TIME, 
 Maker of eternal spheres, 
 Who knowest every second aye 
 Of Time's perpetual years; 
 Who taketh count of every hair; 
 Each bird of Thine to fall ; 
 Giving Thy every gift to us, 
 Thou madest for us all; 
 Great Judge of every good or ill 
 With which each soul is rife: 
 Saviour of each spirit, ay, 
 Thy spirit, which IS Life : 
 Through Time abide within each heart 
 With Thy eternal love, 
 And grant Thy servant-souls may rise, 
 Redeemed, at last, above. 
 * 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 16 
 
IX. 
 
 HOLY, HOLY, HOLY, THOU, 
 Within each temple Thou hast made 
 Priceless in birth, saved past all "death," 
 The gem within the casket laid. 
 Thou makest every soul a shape; 
 Thou gavest every body breath ; 
 And unto Thee, at last, hast Thou 
 Reserved souls past "dying," "death," 
 Past change, by Thy Divine decree. 
 O Wisdom! Then this soul's of Thee. 
 'Tis Thee I housed in poverty ! 
 Blind as a stone, I could not see. 
 Yet all Thou asketh throughout Time 
 Was that I love, and serve, BUT Thee. 
 Now are we poor who found Thee late: 
 Now we behold Thee as Thou art. 
 Forsake us, Father, God, couldst Thou, 
 When each child is of Thee, a part? 
 
 * 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 X. 
 
 THOU, LORD, WHO WORE A MARTYR'S CROWN, 
 
 Who, spat upon, rejected, died 
 
 Nailed to a tree, my soul to save: 
 
 Yet have I crucified 
 
 Thee in my daily walks with men 
 
 Blasphemingly ; and unrevered 
 
 Thy agonies : the price You paid 
 
 That I MIGHT rise, soul-teared, 
 
 Forgiven, BY Thy sacrifice. 
 
 My faltering feet reproach me now. 
 
 I see Thine spiked upon the cross. 
 
 Thy suffering o'er, Thine agony. 
 
 A traitor, I : eternal loss. 
 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 17 
 
XL 
 
 XII. 
 
 FATHER OF THE LOST LAMBS, 
 Shepherd of Thy sheep, 
 Folded still within earth's fold, 
 Where Thy care must keep 
 Wanderers from Thy Holy paths 
 Until Thine hour is come, 
 And repentance works within 
 Each one, Thy Holy sum, 
 Shelter every soul of Thine: 
 These ARE parts OF Thee. 
 Seest Thou the end of all: 
 Still Thy mystery. 
 When the lost recover, 
 Where Thou bidst them rest, 
 Father of all souls alive, 
 Fold all, in Thy breast! 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 HOLY SPIRIT, IN WHOSE NAME 
 I have served, as here I came 
 FOR Thy work my work to do, 
 Supplicating, ever true, 
 Guided by Thy Holy Writ, 
 Scriptural, saving, divine, fit 
 For each harkening, halting soul 
 Yearning Thou wouldst make them whole. 
 Closed the portals of Thy skies, 
 His Father's Home, His sacred prize, 
 Past a mortal soul to win, 
 Scarred, defaced, through mortal sin, 
 'Til they bow and serve as I, 
 Where, as spirit, each may try. 
 Never didst THOU evil make. 
 Holy Spirit, let me take 
 Onward, when I rise for Thee, 
 Her who served Thee, God, FOR me. 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 18 
 
XIII. 
 
 GOD OF THE LIVING MARTYRS HERE, 
 Where spirits live past clay or bier, 
 Adjust Thy scales to balance fine, 
 And weigh each heart, as soul, of Thine. 
 Each heart, of Thine Own essence still : 
 No lover's heart but Love dost fill, 
 Who art Love's Own, by Love's decree. 
 Then, Love, art Thou such mystery? 
 To love as Thee, and love for aye, 
 Witholding naught where lovers pay, 
 But welcoming from each spirit dark 
 Thy light of Love, Thy Divine spark, 
 Where Love, at last, hath set souls free 
 Through martyred love, to serve BUT Thee. 
 * 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 O JUSTICE, GOD, EQUALITY, 
 One Father of the human race, 
 Whose souls are all of Thine Own flint, 
 Whose Hand hath dealt, unknowing stint, 
 Whose Heart within each heart doth beat, 
 Whose Life doth course ALL veins, though fleet 
 The span of years to try each soul 
 Thou hast made brief, who pay the toll 
 Throughout all time, in serving here, 
 Anear their past, past any bier. 
 ADJUSTER OF THE BLIND WHO SEE, 
 God of the world, eternity, 
 Time, space, all creatures, races, creeds, 
 Weigh separately Thy children's needs. 
 And, as Thou hast UNbandaged eyes, 
 And seeth, heareth each child's cries, 
 Make ALL Thine Own, in Paradise ! 
 * 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 19 
 
XV. 
 
 O WISDOM, ON WHOM WE RELY, 
 
 Who, wingless, surge Thy immortal sky, 
 
 Who look aloft through changing years, 
 
 Viewing Thy mysteries, Thy spheres, 
 
 Who pause on the same thoroughfare 
 
 With spirit-bodies, breathless, there, 
 
 Join in the praises of earth's men, 
 
 Knowing their joys the same as when 
 
 In bodies by the Giver given 
 
 We walked the land, and spoke of heaven. 
 
 We know Thee as our Father still. 
 
 The Power preserving shape and will. 
 
 Our destiny we do not know. 
 
 Though eons drag, Time's currents flow, 
 
 The God of Wisdom is our God. 
 
 Our backs are bared unto His rod. 
 
 Our hearts laid bare, as is His plan, 
 
 Where each soul sees their fellowman 
 
 Without pretence, deceit, vile show. 
 
 His imprint marks us high, or low. 
 
 And, as all rivers meet the sea, 
 
 And love is stored, and Love IS Thee, 
 
 We know by Wisdom's Holy Law 
 
 When souls ARE fit, as Jesus saw 
 
 His Father's House, He HAS His plan 
 
 For every soul in God's great span. 
 
 Eternal Wisdom, loving, wise, 
 
 Help men to seek, and find, Thy eyes ! 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 20 
 
XVI. 
 
 SUPERNAL LOVE, UPON WHOSE BREAST 
 
 Thy children find eternal rest, 
 
 As soothed and cradled in Thy arms, 
 
 Thou sharest peace, stillest alarms, 
 
 Increasing Thy abounding store 
 
 Where Love abounds forevermore, 
 
 Take to Thy Heart the humblest one 
 
 At last in mercy : share Thy Son 
 
 Who blest the world by serving Thee: 
 
 To SAVE the world He came to be. 
 
 Search every heartbeat, make it true, 
 
 That hearts, and minds, Thy will shallt do : 
 
 And, as no love is lost to Thee, 
 
 Where all is known, whatever be, 
 
 Unto Thy kingdom may we come 
 
 And find Thee Love, nor shame Thy Home. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 XVII. 
 GREAT ARTIST OF THE WORLD, AND WORLDS, 
 WHOSE palette rests upon Thy thumb, 
 Whose colors are infinitude, 
 Whose magnitude Thine only sum. 
 Whose skill, creative power, unknown 
 By copyist, are BUT Thine Own! 
 Whose bill and talons of a bird, 
 As every leaflet earth-wind stirred, 
 Are patterns of the Infinite : 
 The God Who made the day, and night ! 
 Who fashioned man, then, OF His clay, 
 And woman, in His Divine way, 
 And breathed into each body breath, 
 Gave each a soul to live past "death" : 
 And all He GAVE, then gave His son 
 That through His gifts His will be done. 
 Creator of Thy plans Divine, 
 Recall my soul: for it IS Thine. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 21 
 
XVIIL 
 
 INFINITE SPIRIT, HOLY GHOST, 
 
 Supreme, Eternal Light, 
 
 Passing every spirit's ken 
 
 Is Thy Immortal Might! 
 
 Beyond, the swinging orbs of night, 
 
 The light that looms the day, 
 
 All is incomprehensible 
 
 To us who bide earth-way. 
 
 Thy glories! What IS fit for Thee! 
 
 How much THY songs make harmony! 
 
 How can we think in thought as Thine, 
 
 Or realize Spirit Divine! 
 
 With spirits here encased with dust, 
 
 At Thy behest we can but trust. 
 
 Then as we leave our clay and bier, 
 
 Seeing our spirits living here, 
 
 We kneel at once imploring Thee 
 
 To save those souls Thou hast made free. 
 
 Accept from Thy immortal son 
 
 A plea to help "Thy will be done." 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 22 
 
XIX. 
 
 RABBONI, ANOINT ME THINE OWN 
 
 For I have served Thee unceasingly. 
 
 In the day by word or deed; 
 
 In the night by prayer to Thee. 
 
 Master, I would come to Thee. 
 
 I would lay down my burden. 
 
 For my lip-service must weary Thee, 
 
 Thou, Who hear est all. 
 
 Rabboni, I call on Thee, 
 
 Pleading, imploring, 
 
 That however unworthy my chalice, 
 
 It IS the beaker holding Thy love. 
 
 Thou didst give me. 
 
 Master, Thou lovest me. 
 
 Yea, even me, Thou lovest, my Father: 
 
 For Thou hast saved me who cry TO Thee, 
 
 Knowing all imperfections not OF Thee. 
 
 I WOULD be like Thee, Rabboni. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
XX. 
 
 HEALER OF SORROW, AND PAIN, 
 
 Physician of the soul, mind, body, 
 
 Lay Thy Hand upon wounded hearts, 
 
 And heal them as with magic 
 
 Thy word canst. 
 
 Comforter Divine, soothe the souls who cry unto Thee 
 
 Past the first death: 
 
 Insufferable their sorrow. 
 
 Uplift with Thy Hand from the pit of darkness, 
 
 Which is hell, 
 
 Planned by Thee to give souls penance: 
 
 Rebuke of Thine. 
 
 Cure the sick-spirit, the foul-spirit, 
 
 Make known Thy presence in hearts 
 
 Which have closed the doors. 
 
 Stand within, pass through the division with Thy light, 
 
 And by Thy word, God of the living, 
 
 Give rest, and peace. 
 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 INFINITE LIGHT, THOU WHO DIDST DESCEND 
 
 INTO HELL'S DARKNESS, 
 And knoweth the pit thereof, 
 
 Who wast sent to bring eternal Light into the world, 
 Light up the darkness of men's minds, which close out Thee, 
 Living without Light, as they walk the darkest ways. 
 Loom through the black pits of heresy, schism; 
 Opinionated, brainless, foolhardy sons of Thine, 
 Who refuse to obey Thee, Father. 
 Appear ; make headway through the storm and gloom 
 Of warfare, hate, revenge, wickedness, crime. 
 And shine, with Thy pure, cleansing Ray, 
 'Till the world IS pure, and ignorance is NO more, 
 But all is Light, known by spirits as God. 
 
 * 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 24 
 
XXII. 
 
 GOD OF SONG, WE PRAISE THEE. 
 Infinite Musicmaster, 
 Soul of Harmony, 
 Love. 
 
 We worship Thee with hearts in tune; 
 We praise Thee in singing; 
 We resound Thy Infinite music, 
 If hearts attune WITH Thee. 
 O God, Thy eternal harmonies abound. 
 Thy metre pulses through the spheres. 
 Thy joyous notes are flung out 
 From the untrained throats, 
 But giving forth Thy praise. 
 
 Eternal Leader, Whose baton swings at Thine Own will, 
 Whose systems vary never a fraction out-of-tune, 
 Master of every singer, every note of harmonious song, 
 We lay our tribute at Thy feet, 
 Knowing Thou art the Great Musician 
 Whose symphonies are played upon strings of Love: 
 Whose zephyrs play for Thee, yielding their praise. 
 Whose creatures know Thy songsters sing for Thee, 
 Who gave them voice, and heart to know Thee. 
 Stifle the Inharmonies of life on this planet, O God, 
 With Thy sweet melody. Tune hearts of men, 
 Until the praise of Thy humble creatures everywhere 
 Shall equal Thy silent, melodious creation, 
 Moving in tune, all harmonious with Thee. 
 
 * 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 25 
 
XXIII. 
 
 FOUNTAIN OF LIFE, ETERNAL SOURCE, 
 
 Supplying rivers at Thy Will, 
 
 While the deep waters of the seas 
 
 Are Thy creation-secret still. 
 
 We see Thee on the water's face, — 
 
 In nature's cup of morning dew, 
 
 Descending for Thy purposes, 
 
 Returning to Thy source anew. 
 
 The iridescence of Thy spark 
 
 Is mirrored in each pool and lake; 
 
 Thy fury, and Thy blessing, too, 
 
 Rides on Thy storm Thy "Peace" canst break! 
 
 Up welling is Thy crystal flow 
 
 Within each spirit Thou didst make. 
 
 Great Sea, unfathomed, Thou art God 
 
 Who gave each soul which Thou didst take. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 GREAT ARCHITECT, THY TEMPLES LOOM BOTH 
 
 TO, AND FROM, THY SKY: 
 The Father's mansions, all within One House. 
 Builder-of-worlds, which Thou alone evolved, and poised, 
 On Thy eternal heaven's chart, 
 Keeping Thy secrets still, 
 While mortals, ay, and spirits, 
 Ponder these within. 
 
 Master Mason, using no tools, less mortar, 
 Infinite Supply Invisible, Mighty, 
 Unsolvable are Thy problems. 
 
 We know Thee none the less, revere Thee, fear Thy wrath, 
 Who buildeth souls in bodies, Eternal Spirit, everliving God, 
 Whose will creates, subtracts, balances, doles, rewards and 
 Punishes, 
 With the same Hand All- just, All God. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 26 
 
XXV. 
 
 MY GOD, MY ONLY FATHER HERE, 
 
 Upon Whose love I still rely, 
 
 Knowing Thy Infinite justice weighed by Thy scales Immortal, 
 
 Must balance for me, as for all, 
 
 The measure of Justice, equal, unvarying, according to Thy 
 
 knowledge, 
 Thy promise, Thy eternal wisdom, never varying throughout 
 
 Time, 
 As we see from spirit this day. 
 MY INFINITE FATHER, Whose love has protected me, 
 
 shielded me, 
 Given me opportunity to reform my evil ways, blest me more 
 
 than I deserve, I know : 
 I call on Thee now, as a child suffering from a burn, 
 That Thou wouldst pour from Thy soothing flask, Thy Heart 
 
 OF Love, 
 Anointing oil, if in Thy judgment I deserve such blessing 
 
 ineffable. 
 Make me clean and whole, by Thy sacred promise left by the 
 
 Son You gave to us, that Divine pardon was the ful- 
 fillment of Thy mercy, to repentant souls. 
 Wipe out my sinner's past. Let me glorify Thee in word and 
 
 deed. 
 Accept my cause as Thou wilt. Relieve me of all curse. 
 Divide my time into hours of reunion with mine still loved 
 
 though unbeheld in spirit. 
 And make me Thy good steward, faithful, honest, prayerful, 
 
 tearful in gratitude and remorse. 
 And Father, Who denies nothing to repentant spirits serving 
 
 Thee, withhold no blessing I deserve, lest my soul perish 
 
 through despondency. 
 Quicken my last effort at toil for Thee, 
 
 Until men shall pause who revile Thee, nor love Thee, Father. 
 Give me Thy grace and power. 
 When I fail in wisdom, prompt me, 
 For Jesus' sake. Amen. 
 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 27 
 
XXVI. 
 
 OUR FATHER IN HEAVEN, WHO ART HERE THIS 
 
 HOUR, 
 As everywhere Thou art, All-seeing, 
 With a Father's love, more tender, and Divine, 
 We know Thou art true to us, whom Thou hast Fathered 
 
 forever in spirit. 
 We trust Thee unboundingly, knowing Thy mercy, Who spared 
 
 us. 
 We return Thy love because Thou art our Father. 
 Knowing all that is best for us homeless wayfarers, spirits. 
 On the rocks, and in the fields, covered over with bodyless 
 
 shapes, like Thine, we fear Thee, having "no place to 
 
 lay our heads" verily. 
 As children we look up to Thee. Punished entirely, we long 
 
 to obey Thee, serve Thee, nor break Thy commands. 
 Infinite Father, Who first loved us, make us, help us to become, 
 
 worthier, to be called Thine. Forever. 
 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 28 
 
XXVII. 
 
 GOD OF LIFE, WHO GIVETH, AND TAKETH, 
 
 BREATH, 
 Yet causeth life prolonged past this frail portal, 
 Understanding Thy process by which form and substance is 
 
 compounded, 
 Thou Who hast completed eternity, 
 We tremble at Thy understanding, who have seen our records, 
 
 where is no time, but all is known of Thee, 
 We behold Thee in the forests, deep-rooted everywhere, mar- 
 vellously God-like, in majesty like Thee, enduring as 
 
 Thou, unending, unchanging. 
 Sublime is Thy dress on the mountains, in the valleys, gorgeous 
 
 the tints of Thy raiment. 
 Thy diadem crowns Thee. Thy lights are OF Thee, perpetual, 
 
 brilliant, healing, mysteriously Thine. 
 Accompanying Thee is the song unheard, vibrant with Har- 
 mony, acknowledged by poets, surmised of faithful 
 
 hearts. 
 All life constructs its pean of praise, adds its ratio, works with 
 
 purpose Thy will. 
 Only the wngrateful of mankind pays Thee no heed, praises 
 
 Thee not, assists Thee never, adding no sum FOR Thee 
 
 at life's close. 
 Behold, this one is Thine. View him with eyes of Love. 
 As he fashions his soul-part from a scanty thread, which is 
 
 OF Thee, craving Thy grace. 
 That thread spun by Thy Hand as /, the soul of a poet. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 29 
 
XXVIII. 
 
 HIGHEST, MIGHTIEST, SAINTLIEST POWER, 
 
 "Thy Kingdom Come," 
 
 Where rules the evil one today. 
 
 In every home 
 
 Unsanctified, unknowing Thee, 
 
 Sharing unrest, 
 
 Descend with Peace. Give unto men 
 
 Thy courage, blest. 
 
 That every son of man may see 
 
 Thy Holy Cause, 
 
 And know Thy kingdom cannot come 
 
 Breaking Thy Laws. 
 
 Uphold the just made perfect here 
 
 Through love for Thee, 
 
 Till spirits can present themselves, 
 
 Carry Thy plea, 
 
 That all the powers invisible 
 
 May help men see 
 
 There is NO kingdom and no KING, 
 
 Except of Thee. 
 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 30 
 
XXIX. 
 
 O MERCIFUL JUDGE, PARDON-GIVING, 
 
 Holding the fate of souls in Thy mercy giving palm, 
 
 Open the prison gates of earth, where souls await Thy word 
 
 of saving grace, repentant of sin, crime, loathsome 
 
 neglect of Thee. 
 Bound fast in fetters where sin binds, and punishes, all call 
 
 on Thee, seeing Thy souls everywhere in all creation, 
 
 alike chained through time to serve as spirits can. 
 Look with compassionate eyes Who seest all good thoughts and 
 
 desires unexpressed, divining intents. 
 Lead the blind in spirit, O God, lest they fall back into sin 
 
 from which there is no escape. 
 With Thy mantle of mercy cover o'er misfortune's inheritance. 
 We call on Thee to plead in justice for our cause, never lost, 
 
 because we are Thine. 
 A new life may respond at Thy word. 
 And Thou canst make us 
 Whatever Thou wilt. 
 Amen. 
 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 31 
 
XXX. 
 
 RESTORER INVISIBLE, AT THY WORD 
 
 Our souls could rise. 
 
 Thou couldst elevate our spirits, 
 
 Or banish all. 
 
 Thy voice all obey in spirit. 
 
 Thy word IS Law. 
 
 Separation of lives means death, 
 
 As we see it. 
 
 Loss of affection and care 
 
 Through Time, cruel Time. 
 
 Our hearts yearn to possess 
 
 Our beloved ones. 
 
 We mourn, as spirits, for the ones 
 
 We cannot find. 
 
 Partitions separate because 
 
 It IS Thy will. 
 
 Must it BE done, O God, have mercy: 
 
 Souls cannot die. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 32 
 
OUR FATHER, JUDGE, AT LAST, 
 
 Of convict, sinner, saint, 
 
 "Blest be the tie that binds", 
 
 However poor each plaint. 
 
 Instill with hope through time to come, 
 
 With comfort through Thy Word, 
 
 As promise made the One Who shared 
 
 Thy victory, listened, heard, 
 
 That He should rise and be with Thee, 
 
 At last, when past earth-agony. 
 
 While we plod on through wilderness, 
 
 Seeing Thy world in war's distress, 
 
 The leering, hateful, murderous eyes 
 
 In spirit, where no paradise 
 
 Awaits the foul one Satan sent 
 
 Who must reform each foul intent 
 
 Before those ears hear Thy reply: 
 
 "Today shalt thou share My Peace, my sky." 
 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 33 
 
XXXII. 
 
 FATHER, IN THY HOUSE I SERVE, 
 
 Doing all I can for Thee. 
 
 Simple effort, yet Divine, 
 
 Must be every spirit's plea 
 
 Who enlists at Thy command, 
 
 Serving all imblest, nor free; 
 
 Harken to Thy souls through me! 
 
 As every spirit kneels in prayer, 
 
 And supplicates Thy pardon, there, 
 
 In the tent which Thou hast made, 
 
 Who wouldst preserve each soul, each shade, 
 
 Past all dying, mortal breath, 
 
 Past destructive fire, when "death" 
 
 Cradles that part of its own, 
 
 While Thy spirits all atone 
 
 Whereso it hath pleased Thee best, 
 
 Ere permitted final test. 
 
 Cradle each within Thy Heart, 
 
 Thou, Who knowest this, my part. 
 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 34 
 
XXXIII. 
 
 ENDURING, PRESENT, LIVING SOURCE, 
 
 Supply of all desires and needs, 
 Past defiling, muttering tongues, 
 Past division of men's creeds, 
 Holy God, One Father, Thou, 
 Blessing all who look on High, 
 Rasping tongues, despoiler's brains, 
 Reforming naught. If Thou art by 
 Each has ALL, if each has Thee. 
 Thou art in each organ-loft: 
 Dwellest Thou in every tree: 
 Every falling petal trusts, 
 That contains its life, of Thee. 
 Every branch, each paltry stem 
 Of Thy struggling, battling race, 
 Thou didst make complete within, 
 Giving all a saving grace. 
 Add unto Thy failing sum 
 Unity of hearts and creeds, 
 Thou One Father, God Supreme, 
 Knowing all Thy children's needs. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 35 
 
XXXIV. 
 
 JEHOVAH, LORD OF HOSTS, 
 
 The world resounds Thy Name. 
 Thy everlasting, blessed, Holy Name. 
 We call on Thee the same as when 
 We traversed earth as mortal men. 
 We look aloft imploringly: 
 Thy Name we call unceasingly. 
 Thy Holy Name, Jehovah. 
 True as Thy Name we know Thee, Lord, 
 Who live, Thy purpose to record. 
 Who kept for aye that part He made, 
 When in each form He laid a shade, 
 A^soul, reserved from the dust 
 To pay Thee tribute : Thee, to trust. 
 Then, as I am one soul to plea 
 And send my cry out, up FOR Thee, 
 Jehovah, Lord, hear Thou the rest 
 Who fail, who try, nor stand the test. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 36 
 
XXXV. 
 
 MASTER-MECHANIC, GOD, CREATOR 
 
 Of life, high, great, low, or small, 
 
 Completing cause from Thy effect, 
 
 Replete with Thee, and wondrous all, 
 
 Infinitely various, past our minds to understand, 
 
 Every gift Thou hast created, 
 
 Tooled by Thy all-perfect Hand. 
 
 Sun, moon, systems, spheres attune, 
 
 Vast creations of Thy will, 
 
 Infinite Thy Holy knowledge, 
 
 Supreme, Almighty, as Thy skill. 
 
 Only human beings vary, 
 
 Pause, rebellious, lack and fear : 
 
 Only men, of Thy creation, 
 
 Blemish Thy perfection here. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 37 
 
XXXVI. 
 
 PROVIDENCE, THOU GREAT PROVIDER, 
 
 Past my spirit to unfold 
 
 Secret store of laboratory 
 
 Hidden, buried in Thy mold. 
 
 Laid aside, as Wisdom planneth, 
 
 Where no eyes but His behold, 
 
 Are His treasures, for His children, 
 
 Surmised not, though earth be old. 
 
 Bounteous as we see His surplus 
 
 Stored beyond the ken of man, 
 
 All IS His, and still, His secret: 
 
 Could but God conceive the plan! 
 
 As we draw He doth replenish: 
 
 As we use He giveth more : 
 
 All, He gave, to bless His creatures, 
 
 From His never-ending store. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 GUARDIAN, KEEPER, OF MY SOUL, 
 From Thy fountain, never dry, 
 I may bring a cleansing potion, 
 Holy, and BE cleansed thereby. 
 I may see Thee as a rainbow 
 Promising the storm is past ; 
 I may walk the thorny pathway 
 Where He "died," and rose, at last. 
 If I am shut in WITH Wisdom, 
 Nor closed out, apart FROM Thee, 
 God will find me willing captive, 
 When He calls me, sets me free. 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 m 
 
XXXVIII. 
 
 INFINITE BREAST, ON WHOSE MERCY WE LEAN, 
 
 Longing for rest from the earth's low and mean, 
 
 Begging to rise above battle and sin, 
 
 Open the portals, Oh let the souls in! 
 
 INFINITE GOD ON WHOSE WORD WE RELY, 
 
 Repentant we look to Thine Infinite sky, 
 
 Soul-scarred, and tear-scarred, Oh save us, and bless 
 
 Thine hungering souls in earth-bound distress. 
 
 Almighty Grace, which was promised to all, 
 
 We crave but Thy pardon. All human did fall. 
 
 Absolve the repentant; receive us in rest; 
 
 And soon shelter all in Thine Infinite breast. 
 
 * 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 ETERNAL VERITY, ONE GOD, 
 Adjuster of an atom's weight, 
 Whose balance poised through Divine Will 
 May rid this earth of impious hate, 
 Who spread a banquet on Thy boards, 
 As suppliant Thou bidst ALL partake, 
 Divining souls must gathered be, 
 Where Thy Blest Son doth Thy bread break, 
 O make this feast anew, we pray, 
 With preparation such as Thine: 
 Where souls must pause, nor enter in, 
 We yearn for bread only Divine. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
XL. 
 
 MASTER-MATHEMATICIAN, COMPUTOR, 
 
 Of Thy sums worked out by Wisdom, 
 
 Which IS Thee, alone. 
 
 How vast, past reckoning by souls, 
 
 Are Thy numbers, glories, space, time, 
 
 Products of mind, 
 
 Reflection of Thy eternal balance, All. 
 
 Beyond souls' reasoning are Thy benefits 
 
 Accruing compounded eternally where Thy children 
 
 Are Thy debtors forever and ever. 
 
 Past MY soul to number the blessings 
 
 Thou hast given each child undeserving, as all are, 
 
 Of reward. 
 
 To permit the failures of Thy family 
 
 To make restitution, even throughout ages, 
 
 To lift a grain of shame 
 
 Laid as blemish on Thy scales, 
 
 Deducting from Thy sum, robbing Thee of Thy kingdom, 
 
 Postponing Thy benefits, pauperizing Thy wealth, 
 
 Shattering Thy temples not wrought with hands but given by 
 
 Thee for Thy purpose. 
 At last where souls count, and re-count, 
 Must Thine Infinite balance, accounting only Thine, 
 Prove unvarying 
 Truth, Justice, Righteousness. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 40 
 
XLI. 
 
 BOTANIST OF LIFE, FLOWER OF THE KINGDOM, 
 
 How do / reverence 
 
 Who speak these words, 
 
 Calling on Thy help here lest I fail to do Thee justice 
 
 WITH my plea ! 
 
 Leaf -of -Eternity am I. One of the fallen ones. 
 
 Pour benison of words like Thine 
 
 Into my preserved hearing, past "death," all change, 
 
 That I may serve Thee now. 
 
 Scattered as the winds listeth are Thy fallen ones. 
 
 (move gently here.) 
 
 Where are they gathered. 
 
 To this one who wound my way hither through mazes dark, 
 
 I wonder, I pray, unceasingly I do implore the God Who gives 
 
 and takes, restore all lost to Thy branch, harmonious 
 
 WITH Thee. 
 Thou, alone, beholdest each calyx, heart : 
 Divinest its fragrance, surpassing my methods to extol, even 
 
 for Thee, My God, Redeemer of my soul at last. 
 Tenderer than ANY blossom made at Thy command art Thou, 
 Who dost conceive all. 
 Thine essence, from which we draw, respond, exhale, Great 
 
 Chemist of mixtures mysterious, insoluble, 
 Pour upon each human petal Thy fragrance ineffable, 
 Into Thy herbs Thy healing power, 
 And O Maker of All, where souls are weeds of Thy kingdom, 
 
 evil roots, no one but Thou divinest their purport, God, 
 
 yet Thou dost NOT exterminate these, but they grow, 
 
 live, through Thy sustaining power, thriving, through 
 
 the life Thou dost preserve, nourish. 
 God of the flower-kingdom, flowers of the heart would perish 
 
 but for Thee! 
 Accept the few crushed leaves from which MY cry is wrung, 
 
 the essence of my poor heart, living because 
 Thou willed it. 
 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 41 
 
XLII. 
 
 GOD OF WRATH, HURRICANES, TORRENTS, 
 
 Quakes, volcanoes, lightning, thunder, 
 
 Whose power to punish rests with Thee 
 
 Who didst calm the waters with Thy word, 
 
 Made darkness light, 
 
 Create and destroy with power inconceivable to man, 
 
 Preserved man, past "death's" obliteration, 
 
 We pause at mysteries of Thine, daring not to question Thee, 
 
 Lest Thou punish still. 
 
 As we became Thine, of Whom we are begotten, saved, 
 
 We love Thee, Father. 
 
 Fear to trespass against Thee, 
 
 Understanding Thee not, 
 
 But trusting Thee evermore. 
 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 42 
 
XLIII. 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 GOD OF THE ROCKS, GEM-STUDDED, 
 
 Lava stream from boiling mountain's sides, 
 
 Thou markest Thy histories 
 
 In these closed books, for future generations' profit. 
 
 Crushed must these tomes be to give forth Thine imprints, 
 recorded as Thou wilt, without man's varying aid, un- 
 beholden as Thou art ever, God of purpose, Supreme 
 Historian. 
 
 Upon these, Thine everlasting leaves of granite, that first 
 Book, recorded at Thy blessed word, through Thy serv- 
 ant for all creeds, races, past all to dismember or deface, 
 
 Thy Supreme Laws, graven by Thy obedient son, could save 
 this, Thy kingdom, where, had I, one son, through Time 
 related to Thee, of Thee, but followed this, Thy Book 
 graven on stone, for me, my spirit, here earth-worn 
 through service to mend up my ungrateful time, could 
 avail of Thy reward reserved for the ones who follow 
 Thy instructions, eternal, as all of Thine. 
 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 43 
 
XLIV. 
 
 GOD OF THE HARLOT, WHORESON, 
 
 Adulterer, 
 
 Father Immaculate, 
 
 Whose just Hand gathers that which is OF Thee 
 
 From every mortal stinkpot, cesspool, sewage foul, 
 
 Saving the depleted wreck 
 
 For Thine Own purpose, 
 
 Seeing in each Law-breaker Thy Holy spark, 
 
 Worth saving at Thy Hand, 
 
 Mouths and tongues which have denied Thee, 
 
 Blasphemed Thee, disobeyed Thee, 
 
 Reviled Thy wisdom, served Thee not, praised Thee never, 
 
 Open the Way to the pool where Thy leper's sores ARE 
 
 Truly cleansed, at Thy word. 
 
 Purify by Thy saving grace each putrid heart ; 
 
 And pour Thy healing salve of Almighty forbearance 
 
 Upon these, who festered and polluted Thy temple, 
 
 Given by Thee, through which Thyself was darned, barred 
 
 out, 
 As they would, but never lost to Thee, their Father, God 
 Of the Holy Ghost. 
 Praise His All-purifying Name. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 44 
 
XLV. 
 
 MY LAST PLEA FOR MEN 
 
 My Soul's Plea 
 
 Had I one thousand thousand tongues 
 With which to work my work of praise, 
 Still would the Maker of my chance 
 Be served through my spirit days. 
 Then can I mouth from spirit side, 
 And work a wonder In His Name? 
 If ye heed all from here I writ, 
 The work's complete for which I came. 
 If ye heed not, Pause now, reflect, 
 If ye God's marvels behold NOT, 
 Canst comprehend who speaketh now, 
 BUT one who shares the Spirit's lot 
 Allotted him as BUT his share 
 Who served his own, or Divine, will? 
 Rape not : sin not : but pause, think well 
 Before His plans ye alter, shun or kill. 
 That thing God gives past "dying," "death," 
 Am I who serve Him past my breath. 
 To save ye such a curse as this, 
 That ye may rise, share IN His bliss, 
 PAUSE, men, today: my words read o'er 
 With hearts attune, but NOT to score, 
 Lest, headway if ye rush, YE serve 
 Where Divine purpose doth NOT swerve. 
 Should ingrate mouth my words unfit, 
 Partake of warning, benefit ! 
 Mayhap we'll meet, should ye not do it : 
 My torch ye'll need, though mortals rue it. 
 As I came here, HAVE spun, past dust, 
 Ay, must YE SPIN. 
 God hearken, trust ! 
 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Soul. 
 
 of n 
 
 45 
 
 ("Spoken to his medium by word of mouth, heard and transcribed by her for 
 souls having bodies.") 
 
REPENTANCE 
 
 THE ACT OF CONTRITION 
 
 HIS CALL 
 
 I do affirm being now a shade in the employ of Jesus, Who 
 serve daily, hourly, His cause, we find Him here in our new 
 beginning as we face ourselves, the body that was ours, re- 
 sembling our eternal part still living without pulsation, cogni- 
 zant, sensitive, having all powers of mind added thereunto, 
 magnified through spirit essence. 
 
 As we come forth to stand WITH our beloved, unappre- 
 hended BY these, alert to all workings of mind, we kneel 
 before His mystery, which gave and took, preserved eternally, 
 having no need except the need of grace Omnipotent, which 
 we find denied through our lack, our I M perfections. 
 
 To be able to scan our past being, rehearsing as we do all 
 evils we assimilated, therefore became, we lose nothing of 
 mind, memory, and the like, rather accentuated is all percep- 
 tion, understanding, as well as enormity of blight, curse, which 
 we find recorded here in full, at which we glare, acknowledge, 
 too, deceiving ourselves never so little in doing all to rid our- 
 selves of afflictions we fostered within souls during a life-term 
 in humanity's form. 
 
 We submerge our consciences in His Infinite justice, leaning 
 upon His mercy, Infinite, too, else we should not survive long 
 through trials in spirit met, yea overcome because of trust in 
 His Infinite compassion. 
 
 Our countenances, unfit to look into His face, shame every 
 mortal's spirit. We who faced difficulties and overcame hard- 
 ships in the earthbody, complain not at His justice, for we had 
 His Laws which told of His division for souls without His 
 gates. 
 
 He varies not at all. Has no favorites. Shows no mercy 
 to those who carried His BANNERS, yet failed. Truth pre- 
 vails in God's here-after here. 
 
 We wash the feet of His beggars. Feed His starving souls, 
 through OUR enlightenment. Call for, and are supplied, 
 helpers IN our tasks, ultimately. 
 
 46 
 
To reveal His secrets must I suffer. But to work His 
 miracle I came past thunders. Know ye then: ye must RE- 
 PENT of evil before evil be banished out OF thee. To 
 change thy substance is not easy. Nor in spirit is it trite. 
 
 Appalling in numbers are those who fail. Grieved at this 
 part of my record I pass swiftly over the sum. Vast con- 
 courses await without Him: and wait not FOR Him; ay, it 
 is true. Repent not of evil, seek not betterment FOR Him. 
 He loves the erring, too. Since these survive. He knows 
 frailty, who knows All. Then He places on probation for a 
 time, His Own time, the ones who WILL not save THEM- 
 SELVES. Themselves, even. 
 
 The heart's substance follows Life's "beyond". Its currents 
 divide. To sum up our affections at the close of years we 
 count with our members, is to complete the final result. By 
 "hearts," I mean enduring affections, the love principle of the 
 mind. 
 
 Should I tell of all we miss through this survival would I 
 punish aforetime by taking from His hand that which His 
 future bestows on each soul. 
 
 Shall I usurp His plan? 
 
 Regrets follow after breath ceases. Tears flow, AND fall. 
 Through His Infinite Almighty plan CAN flow and fall, and 
 DO, in every act of repentance veritable before pardon. 
 
 After His call, when The summons has been answered by 
 the obedience of slavery, His voice IS heeded, sought, as His 
 balance is Spirit's toll. 
 
 Could mortals pay as they walk His way IN the body, ye 
 ask? Ay, in faith, following His precepts. Veritably true IS 
 God. There IS His kingdom. He IS where HIS will IS 
 done, in heaven. "Seek ye FIRST His kingdom, and all these 
 things shall be added unto you." FIRST. PROFIT. AD- 
 DITION. The Alpha and The Omega. His part am I. My 
 small part is now His. 
 
 Amen. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 47 
 
NINETY-NINE 
 99 
 
 Told in Divine History, repeated oft, and retold in various 
 forms in the same Book, His leaves: the lost. The Lost one. 
 The missing unit. The imperfect circle. The broken home, 
 heart. The just man, imperfect. 
 
 Hated of all is a sinner ; shunned, despised, flung-out, ostra- 
 cized by the good; the cleverer ones who have been able to 
 hide the lost talent, the missing link, the imperfection which 
 sullies, blemishes, discolors, disfigures every soul which should 
 belong to Him Who was sent as the Example. 
 
 Should scoflers deride my assertion that the just made 
 perfect is not here found whole, complete, he must abide His 
 time to be enlightened by himself. I am a soul. OF souls 
 now. I should speak with authority, blameless at my task, 
 which is only to perfect my soul through this one for the 
 Almighty, BECAUSE I lost MY talent, and must seek it, find 
 it, restore it, and more beside if I can do so, with God's help. 
 
 Then I DO speak ■ for the incredulous now. The UNbe- 
 liever, scofTer, the one who cleans the OUTside of His dish, 
 licks the inside, sets the platter with those cleansed perfectly 
 UNDER His cleansing water, power, at His word. 
 
 I leave the sullied pure who ARE pure, to themselves. They 
 face God, who IS Purity Himself. If these can bear His 
 light, His searchlight, ay, THEY will know MORE than I. 
 
 I am constrained to pause. My own task set me by my 
 better part desiring to BE cleansed, places the obstacles of 
 justification for sin and sinners before me, condemns me AND 
 my cause. The human frame on which BUT mortal cravings, 
 replenishments, are flung, lusts, if perverted, requires its string- 
 ing up, tuning fork, rehabilishment, re-establishing. I shall 
 not go further into this here. The wise know and fools learn. 
 
 To justify sin is to slip His barrier without honor. Know 
 this. He holds, must hold, His sacred prize for those who 
 pass His final examination, trial. This, too, WE know. To 
 be a soul so wise as to realize ourselves incapable of His tasks, 
 is to admit our failure to ourselves who found our decree which 
 
 48 
 
divorced us from Him, who WAS ours in the beginning, IS 
 the Father of All. It is to admit you BELONG WITH those 
 outcast from His blessed isle of peace surrounded by His in- 
 effable sweetness, supply inexhaustible, where is His smile 
 only, His approval, as well as His Own. 
 
 Then can we alter His Laws, or a single Law of His to fit 
 our special cause, lack, craving, purpose, intent, idea, ideal? 
 
 Bah. Disgust. I pause. 
 
 To skim His dish, take for the inward part His best NOT 
 unto His glorification? To smack the lips at His forbidden 
 board? To drain His cup forbidden? To accept not His 
 banquet spread before thy gorging eyes, but demand at His 
 hands the morsel He reserved for Himself ? 
 
 O shame. Fie, I cry, on you, His ingrate, His thief, His 
 lost talent lost to Himself. 
 
 O God. Thy heavenly banquet WITH Thee must be sur- 
 passing fair. All hail the time when souls of Thine, Thy dis- 
 obeying ones, may gather around Thee to partake with Thee 
 of Thy portion given them FROM Thy hand. 
 
 Accept my plea, my service in Thy Holy cause, that I may 
 be summoned to Thy House, my Father, whom I love, obey, 
 in my outcast place where He bade me wait for new garments 
 for my soul, FIT for The King's table. 
 
 Behold I wait, as waiting upon Thee for Thy purpose, I do 
 sing and preach my days on earth FOR THEE, as Thou 
 biddest me. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 49 
 
HIS IMMACULATE ONE 
 
 The story is told. His sacred story, in His Book. All hail ! 
 
 Doubters of His glories, His power, I speak. I am a shade 
 of His, a miracle performed by Himself for me. My inward 
 reflection of my outward being He preserved, in His wisdom 
 doth preserve. For all human forms He made His part, their 
 souls. 
 
 Why is this doubted ? Have ye unravelled His mysteries ye 
 do handle, behold, pass by in derision as FIT for thee, no mat- 
 ter about the Inventor of them, they BELONG to thee natu- 
 rally. His air you breathe : His current. His plant-secret ; the 
 smallest atom THERE ye cannot solve. His seed. His life- 
 spark. Ye name it, RE-name it for Him, GERM. His fingers 
 planted it; no matter what YE may call it, it is His wonder. 
 A small miracle of His, out of His Father heart a remem- 
 brance for His children's needs. Perhaps. I believe it so, at 
 least. 
 
 It is only natural to reflect the Giver must have thought 
 when He prepared so bountifully the board of His banquet 
 hall. For He made the palate too. His secret: taste of the 
 mouth and its environs. BEFORE He created one He per- 
 fected the other. For His purpose? Not a doubter is here 
 from spirit, and there are many spirit eyes looking on us here 
 this day this hour at my wonder works, FOR Him. My 
 imperfections, but His miracle or I should not spell my own 
 words on this page. I spilled my time, His sacred years. His 
 tasks I am ABOUT. Be ye likewise IF wise. 
 
 How much can your mortal palates forbear, that is the ques- 
 tion. Little doses of God's wisdom placed with sweet coating 
 in the mouth for thee to suck at. Repulsion ye will NOT have. 
 
 My subject now. 
 
 Conceived He all, ail-perfectly. Without blemish, as we 
 suppose, in His beginning. For the Giver's gifts WERE Per- 
 fection's ONLY. Then He could plant with His plant-king- 
 dom His secret, life, what were IMpossible, to Him. 
 
 That He performed His miracle through His will, keeping 
 His Divine secret to Himself, BUT once, for all creations 
 
 50 
 
following to believe in His power, might, wisdom, was SUF- 
 FICIENT. 
 
 That the record of His birth, coming, going, will endure 
 as His Divine intent and purpose wills it should, we have 
 known from the beginning of our soul's experience. He, is 
 God. With Him ALL things are not only possible, but evi- 
 dent, shown. As we ourselves in shadow, that part which 
 lived from birth, ay it is true, within that case He fashioned 
 from His dust, breathed upon, NAMED man. 
 
 That every breath of His doth not claim Him here, is 
 another equation. There are traitors foul in spirit likewise. 
 Postponing their efforts in His cause, idlers, gossipers aplenty, 
 mischief making tools of the Almighty, unsharpened of wits, 
 unpliable, misshapen by their own intents, perversions, hatreds, 
 enmities, dishonors. 
 
 The Holy One Who came into being for His purpose 
 through His Divine will at His Own behest, WAS pure, IS 
 pure. Ye shall revile Him not the least, dissect Him not, sus- 
 pect Him never of impossibilities, else may He show you in 
 person how secret is His knowledge of thee, even. We fear 
 Him, as we love Him, and revere His works. Ingrates are 
 His burden He bears without complaint. But punished by 
 themselves does He permit, for scoffers. It is enough, here. 
 
 The record of His miracles performed through the Immacu- 
 late One taking Him AT His word, heard as spoken from 
 spirit to Her, is His proof that He WAS the power of creation. 
 
 Created Him a Son for Himself, that SHOULD be the Light 
 of His world He created, loved so that He GAVE them His 
 Son, His ONLY One, to be the sacred channel through which 
 He alone worked His miracles, joined, in the perfection of all 
 accomplished, Whose Record bears me out. 
 
 His humility, poise, assertion that His Father worked 
 through Him and He could perform not anything WITHOUT 
 Him, should be acceptable from the Divine One. 
 
 Astronomers with your powerful lenses' seeking afar His 
 secrets, would ye turn that glass Inside magnifying for Him 
 the soul He did give thee that ye find it before too late it IS 
 found, dug out of thee by His power alone, to stand before 
 His face, a stinging thing to smite Him, defy Him, wasting 
 His time allotted you to aid His cause, the world ye occupy 
 to help Him search for, free from, sin. 
 
 51 
 
Scientist, delver after wisdom whose fool of Wisdom ye are, 
 shall ye hold the atom of mind reserved at His call? His bal- 
 ances ARE His, infinitesimally small though they be. 
 
 Skeptic, of His, His picturebook is before thee. Take from 
 Him into thy child's understanding, thy childish mind, the 
 leaves of nature, God's fairytales, and sit cloistered with these 
 through time thou canst NOT unravel, and revere the Hand 
 of God, the Author of All. 
 
 To the impure all things are made manifest of His purity 
 at the close of lids from which fell no tear for thine own 
 lacking part for Him, OF Him, reserved for Him, but to be 
 perfected by thee, alone. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 52 
 
WHY? ANSWERED. BY MY IMMORTAL SPIRIT, 
 SHADE, GHOST, SOUL OF ME, SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 The age is idolatrous. His children everywhere have turned 
 their faces to the sodden earth and its pleasures of life giving 
 them sensations in return. 
 
 Illimitable time is God's forever. His "ever-and ever" 
 Jesus knew well when He added it finally in His masterpiece, 
 that Holy composition whose powers move the silent spheres, 
 being all needed TO move them. His WORKS, then, defy 
 Him not, disobey Him not, and ARE His. Only His children 
 for whom He made all, gave all, are His disobedient ones. 
 
 Behold the result, in this age, written in their own gore, as 
 His wheel of Time is clogged, His purpose delayed, His king- 
 dom tottering, verily, on His creation, earth. 
 
 Then it behooves me, a shade of His, His disobedient one, 
 to make a full statement to my co-laborers in the field, meaning 
 men in pulpits who serve the Almighty, in behalf of souls, 
 recommending to them our course, which, if followed by 
 mortals will save His world for Himself, as God intends, in- 
 tended from the first, when His only command was that His 
 few children obey Him in His denial for THEIR good. 
 
 The Record makes History. The world of His disobedient 
 marks His time with pages of shame, defies Him, loves Him 
 not. _ It is my purpose then, while the time is given me, for 
 His purpose, to set down in writing, the reasons we find in 
 spirit shape, WITHOUT His clay, for them to alter their 
 course, before the world He loved is rocked, shaken to atoms 
 by His disapproval, mayhap disfiguring His plans, His face, 
 robbing Him and postponing His design. 
 
 When He saw the world leaping backwards He performed 
 His miracle. Yet another and His world may stop at His 
 Own bidding, His word. His patience, endurance, MAY end 
 with His rebuke. Ay, verily. 
 
 A new Sodom is here today. With my foul tongue could 
 I still describe its vileness. God forbid me to use this sacred 
 tool except for Thee, in music Thine. Yet do I command at- 
 tention being a shade, revered still on His footstool. 
 
 Do mortals see, think on, hear, and yet revere Him not, OR 
 
 53 
 
His cause? Why should THEY fear God? Do they ask this 
 question of their unGodly selves? If so, can they answer it, 
 summing up WITH His divine intelligence He gives each child 
 of His? 
 
 After the change ye mortals speak of as "dying", "the end", 
 "death", ye do revere the Maker of that part ye find in His 
 universe without the breath and bones He gave you FOR His 
 purpose of divinity. Minus His wondrous tool, His gift of 
 human substance, ye are handicapped at service for the Al- 
 mighty for whose plans ye were sent to help His Holy cause. 
 
 Ye run as the light. Ye hear through unbroken silences 
 with an added hearing all silent, rendered by thought, reading 
 INTENTS of the mind as Jesus did while IN His sacred body; 
 ay, the thoughts of the heart read He while here, read we now. 
 
 But that secret is not revealed to us in spirit who share His 
 added parts, handicapping us, UNLESS we serve Him in His 
 likeness. Then do we revere that living God whose powers 
 and secrets we know are His because we, FIND, them His. 
 
 To balance the worlds and systems of His eternal chart ye 
 know One must, should ye take of His valuable time a second 
 to look aloft, in His face. Is this impossible for you to spare 
 so much OF His time FOR Him? Then look INside, perhaps 
 inside your mind, at His balance there: the balance of God. 
 Mind. Thought, even. Whose finger, or reflected knowledge 
 has UNtied this knotty problem, or divined its balance or ad- 
 justment met in each living creature THROUGH His knowl- 
 edge, by Himself, the Creator of mind-power, brain-power, 
 reasoning-power. His image! HIM. 
 
 And yet ye fear Him not the least. Blaspheme Him. Call 
 His Name in vain but never in earnest. 
 
 O sons of God, reflections of His image, ye must BRING 
 that all TO Him. 
 
 Then why should you love Him: the Creator of your selfish 
 selves. Well, He brought forth sensation FROM His mind 
 which is yet the attribute OF mind, and ye love His trophies 
 but cannot love the Giver. O shame. Shame, I cry from 
 spirit this day, hereon. That His children do not find Him, 
 seek Him, love Him who is All-Love, Magnanimitv. 
 
 Do ye return Him NO gift? Then ye BRING naught TO 
 Him, who gave His All, for such AS ye. Asking obedience, 
 love. 
 
 54 
 
Then why should ye worship Him, send Him a paean of 
 praise from your lips to thank Him FOR His gifts, His life 
 He did bestow, His riches, wonders all, and last of all, greatest 
 of all, for His proof that He made you to ENDURE FOR His 
 time, His Own eternity. 
 
 Because, in your disobediecne, "AND sin, ye must share 
 WITH sinners, the place He ALSO prepares for His rebel- 
 lious ones, who serve Him not, consider Him not, obey Him 
 not, love Him not. 
 
 His proof was final, too. As we see in spirit this day, He 
 may intend the wicked to destroy themselves, one another, ay. 
 As they do. Then will His Own world He loved BE His, 
 with His remnant, God's few hearts that loved Him, His scat- 
 tering ones who served Him WITH their minds, hearts, souls, 
 all. 
 
 Then shall we in spirit be gathered to His bosom? 
 
 God grant a new world soon, for Thy saints' sakes who toil 
 for Thee that Thy kingdom may not be lost TO Thee. 
 
 May each son who wears Thy shield, Thy armor, be pro- 
 tected from the evil in Thy disobedient ones. Amen. 
 
 * 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 55 
 
THE CONTINUITY OF LIFE 
 'CONTINUOUS LIFE: I prefer/ 
 
 The expression of God is eternal. His life IS Him. He 
 is our life. 
 
 His voice We know who speak as now, having a mind to 
 balance every word here uttered. Then our topic is from spirit 
 a solved equation, demonstrated at last by Himself, through 
 His Law inevitable as all laws of His Own, therefore indis- 
 putable. 
 
 When we arrive to dispute with ourselves, our consciences, 
 our inalienable right to Justice, we know Who judges, how 
 little our conferences with our pigmy intelligences weigh in 
 His Own worked out problem when His finis uttered, but 
 unspoken, makes us free as individuals, untrammelled, to seek 
 Him. 
 
 To add to our portion for Justice I speak now. It is my 
 right, so far as we see it is not wrong, to speak and be heard 
 through a mortal lending their human part, keeping their own 
 intelligence in abeyance for the purpose. That is as / see it. 
 For many aver it IS wrong, and I now lay claim to the right 
 to prove them wrong. 
 
 Competitive interests allow of mutual donations, here. Well, 
 you argue, if the Maker intends death as a separating veil, 
 let us wait for His disclosures. 
 
 He performs His Own miracles in His Own time, place, 
 and after His Own plan. His perfect Son, sent because His 
 knowledge surpassed mortals, and He knew some sign must 
 be given whereby they could hope, else sin would destroy the 
 world itself, God loved, and must have made to add to His 
 perfections. 
 
 Should I, an immortal spirit of my Maker's, endeavor to 
 solve His reasoning beyond this, it must only be to add to the 
 sum the verification of Justice, and the knowledge, immediate 
 let me say here, that the world needed saving grace, God's 
 promise shown His children through the miracle after the 
 crucifixion, through which God, Almighty Spirit that He is, 
 parted the likeness of Himself from the human form of flesh, 
 uniting these again, the lifeless form with its own spirit, the 
 
 56 
 
making one form alive, and kindled the fireless form with His 
 flame undying, gave back the power of uttered speech, restored 
 by the Great Restorer, and lifted by His Hand on High. 
 
 The glorious ascension of That form as it rose to His king- 
 dom, heaven, wrapped in His earth-mantle, shrouded as before 
 burial, was the final act of His drama conceived and enacted 
 through His Divine purpose : to awaken the idolatrous of earth 
 through His power, and sacred performance, that to "die" 
 might mean to end gloriously, to walk with Him, to go to 
 Him: when the curtain fell for every soul they should have 
 had His promise, His way shown, His power proved, and His 
 eternal, undying Spirit, His Own Example, verified by His 
 work, through His love, BECAUSE of His sacrifice. 
 
 And he proved His word by His deed. Knowing His Own 
 time endless, He would profit by His gift, that His perfection 
 should not be (await) the result of strife through imperfec- 
 tion, punishment for broken laws, but that His Own children 
 should look up and help the Heavenly One, so Good, so 
 Mighty, Everlasting: that He might be loved in return for all 
 He gave; obeyed because of the harm that should befall 
 through disobedience, through sinful ones, to Himself. 
 
 Is it not strangely incongruous there are today among earth's 
 intellectuals those arguing the immortality of His souls. 
 
 Doubters of His, unaffected by His miraculous works, skep- 
 tical of His power, while yet the heavens speak His glory? 
 
 Again do I affirm, I Shakespeare furnish proof of His 
 undying souls, having brought forth to utter and describe 
 many hundreds by now through her whose ear I use to en- 
 lighten miserable ingrates of His, satisfied without His staff, 
 His works, His souls, His bread, Himself. 
 
 For all souls, for His undying glory. 
 
 'From Shakespeare's Soul.' 
 
 57 
 
THE MISSION OF MAN 
 
 Requested of Shakespeare's Spirit, by , Los Angeles, 
 
 California 
 
 To enlarge upon the topic presented by our Co-Worker, may 
 we not include our after-part as well, verifying, as we do here, 
 man IS His eternal preservation, and call our subject: THE 
 SPIRITS MISSION, which amounts to the same, but in- 
 cludes eternity in the outlook from within. 
 
 The soul's place in creation: what is it? Since Jesus lived 
 all men regardless of caste, opportunity, learning, have had 
 the privilege of this knowledge. He was sent by His Father, 
 CREATED, that is, to do His will that all men living forever 
 might know on Whose mission He came hence, why His 
 Father sent Him, when the Only One He did thus create for 
 Divinity's purpose WAS His Son, conceived miraculously. 
 
 To establish anew in men's hearts and lives the fulfillment 
 of His time, mercy, service, love, a record so astounding as 
 the Man of Galilee remains until this hour. His Divine Mis- 
 sion : God made man. Then WHY He came, His Holy Writ 
 records. All thereafter were to be followers of His. As He 
 and the Father were One, as He accomplished all that He did 
 with His Father's power, speaking with Him daily, hourly no 
 doubt, His will and purpose was defined by His example, 
 speech, utterance, love, forgiveness even upon the cross as He 
 hung dying, that all should take up His cross and follow after 
 Him, IN HIS STEPS, wherever right, principal, justice, self- 
 denial could lead, they were to go forth preaching the Word, 
 denying Him not, revealing Him AS an example: the One 
 Who preferred His Father's will to His Own will: accepted 
 of it, died through it, for it, because of it, that His mission 
 MIGHT be fulfilled. To such an extent He trusted that while 
 He knew if He called His Father would hear and send Him a 
 legion, He WOULD not call. For His Father's will WAS 
 His will. For this He came. WAS man, suffered as only 
 flesh suffereth. Pangs of His sacred body! Pain and 
 
 58 
 
ignominy suffered and endured because of traitors to His 
 Father's cause, cursed, reviled, spat upon, He complained 
 never: trusted ever: knowing all was the plan of His own 
 Father, whose business He was about, WHEN He suffered. 
 
 It was the Divine will that an example should be left to ex- 
 plain His life-purpose was the creation of a soul within a body 
 that could not die when that body was stiff and cold, decayed, 
 or reverted to the clay from which the Divine potter worked, 
 when He tooled that first man, Adam, through His will 
 or by His hand, I know not, NEED not know. 
 
 His mission is ours. Our mission must be His. Just as 
 we follow in His footprints, the example (He hung upon the 
 cross to expiate sins of sinners), just as we believe on Him, 
 serve Him, acknowledge Him, as well as follow after Him, 
 shall we find the ultimate result FOR Him. 
 
 Then, are we God's because of the blood He spilled, the 
 martyr's crown He wore, the death of ignominy He died? 
 
 Are we followers after Christ, Christ-ians, born in His right 
 to share every burden of His breath existence allotted us? 
 
 Have we a mission as souls ? ARE we created for any pur- 
 pose? If not for His purpose, why does He preserve the 
 spark of Himself, undying, as all He created? What is a soul's 
 part in His creation? Inside and outside of flesh, it is the 
 same part ! To know Him, accept Him as God unknowable, 
 Power, Divinity, Utmost Will, All-Mind, All-Wisdom, All- 
 Spirit, All-Force. 
 
 And then to fear All that we cannot know, reason, divine, 
 of His Almighty Reason, Knowledge, Divinity. Accepting His 
 Own miraculous and loving Gift, Jesus, the proof of His 
 power, the Divine outlook of Reason Himself that His world 
 should be His, through His love, unstained or unsullied 
 through evil or sinner's blemish. 
 
 To know Him IS to love Him, trust Him, hold to Him 
 through His eternity unending, His deathless soul, His un- 
 dying part. 
 
 I am comforted. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 59 
 
WHAT IS THE MEANING OF IT ALL? 
 
 At sunset we mourn not : a new day MUST dawn. 
 
 God's plan IS His day after night. 
 
 Through life-term we murmur at what we have found, 
 
 Caring naught if the end bring us Light. 
 
 As sure as ye live in His realms after "death," 
 
 Must ye bring all the Light that ye find. 
 
 The judgment awaits, and the Judge is INside: 
 
 His part: ay, His spirit, AND mind. 
 
 Must you search for the dawn ere the break of His morn ? 
 
 Ye trust, as ye rest, through His night. 
 
 But in His "hereafter" but HERE after all, 
 
 Ye serve Him Who IS only Light. 
 
 I have come through the dark to help such as ye. 
 
 I have paid as we pay, one and all. 
 
 Do ye heed one of God's who has thrown off His robe, 
 
 Ye will stand in His row, ere you fall. 
 
 * 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 60 
 
EVOLUTION. IS IT HIS DESIGN? 
 
 We evolve in spirit through His grace, as we come in touch 
 with His formless form. 
 
 We know His power, His truth, but as yet nothing of His 
 wisdom have we imbibed since our changed form, except as 
 He willed, that we behold Him face to face without form, 
 except that shadow of His escaped from His clay house to 
 mourn for time that we found so little like unto Him within 
 ourselves, when, as spirits we behold Him everywhere, His 
 poise, His clay, His systems, plans undivisible, unknown, but 
 of which we partake in His wisdom for His Own purposes 
 OF His creation. 
 
 Form plays little part in His universe after all. His In- 
 finite patterns adjusted at His lathe we behold in infinitude, 
 yet we comprehend nothing of His secrets still. Our mind's 
 souls having partaken of His adjustments, are staggered for a 
 time to adjust themselves. No current is missing. We absolve 
 the Infinite from our errors, blame ourselves in His true light 
 of spirit for our each shortcoming, as we begin to wait upon 
 Him through His time, for HIS purpose, NOT ours. 
 
 If FORMS change into higher forms through stratas of His 
 Infinite plan, why SHOULD we not suppose that we, being 
 made like unto Him, should HERE be evolving His likeness 
 reflected by Him throughout His creation? Our higher na- 
 tures survive, WITH His part, after the change, which "ends" 
 nothing but His breathing power. Absolutely, this is true. I, 
 Shakespeare, furnish proof. 
 
 HAVE we evolved from lower forms, then, is the question 
 you are asking. No. I say we have NOT. Creation, the 
 God I found Who permits this part surviving wherewith I 
 now plan this paper (article would be better, Sarah) needs no 
 such jargon. 
 
 If He created the orbs swinging through His time He did 
 devise (incomprehensible is Eternity, I now affirm) His pat- 
 terns WITH His power are His Infinite Mind, out of which 
 He alone made, thought out, demanded created, that which 
 immediately stood forth whole and perfect at His, the Creator's 
 word. 
 
 Then His forms evolve, evolute themselves, ye question? 
 
 61 
 
Perhaps. Perhaps each tiny spark of the Creator's dust liveth: 
 taketh thought, as of Him. 
 
 May I not suppose, as spirit, that each life-spark holds a 
 thinking mind, subservient to His will, the Creator's instinct? 
 
 Then, if the lower forms of Life itself prove worthy of 
 progression through the will TO progress, learn, strive for 
 His ultimate perfection, should I not have the same thought 
 here for all I see needing His sublime patience, amenable to 
 His rebuke UNTIL His plan BE acceptable to each atom of 
 His? 
 
 I now pause. It is too vast. I cannot unravel the secrets 
 of The Almighty. But this I do. I here acclaim my soul as 
 His I found in starvation after His change. I now progress. 
 
 May you be enlightened hereby, that, after the form emerges 
 from that form you stroke and cherish, ye will find at least 
 illumination through my mind, my part of His preserved still, 
 whereby I speak, think, revere Him AND His All- Wise crea- 
 tions wherever found, of whatever mould, or formless still 
 like UNto Himself, His Almighty Power. God bless us all. 
 Amen. 
 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 "Add a script. Push this in somewhere. W. S. Spirit." 
 
 The Scientist who named forever his theory after his own 
 name, who poured an atheistic solution on His world to stifle 
 His creatures, His life, His mind, as WITH his plan he 
 would prove creation needed Him not at all, was a power unto 
 itself, was one of the Almighty's fools who spilled His reason- 
 ing to defy Him. Such are classed as His Infinite wisdom 
 elects, to seek His cause from His effect in our world. 
 
 Divinity rules, you can be assured by me, a spirit. Just AS 
 He creates, He demands at His word, obedience. 
 
 I shall write no more today. 
 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 62 
 
TO GOD'S IMMORTALS: 
 From One of His 
 
 Our Infinite souls are His regardless of learning, ability to 
 imbibe or acquire His knowledge, skill, intuitive, perceptive 
 power, which unites with Him, no doubt, since we must only 
 go TO Him to be restored Who IS Mind Himself. 
 
 It is here to those I would speak. Mind-fellows, creatures 
 of sense : thought-delvers : creators, who must, for His Infinite 
 purpose, be His examples : His followers : chaste, charitable, 
 just. 
 
 Have you a soul, you must know its relationship to the 
 Infinite. One spark of His intellectual abnormality igniting 
 that power called by human intelligence, genius, and you move 
 in His eternal currents. Forever. Forever. You know this is 
 so without comprehending it even. You pause when ques- 
 tioned by mortals regarding your methods, before placing out- 
 side your personal attainment the knowledge you have appre- 
 hended, fearing to name its source. 
 
 Howbeit, if you have been near the burning bush you realize 
 the supernatural means by which it became aflame. Do not 
 argue with me. I am a spirit of God's. I know. I knew 
 TOO. 
 
 When human endeavor reaches superhuman accomplishment 
 it is justifiable to name the source WITHOUT your vane, a 
 current of the Almighty. A force celestial. Helpers from 
 on high. Maybe from below. All intervene between the plod- 
 der and his final supreme, uttermost work winning benediction 
 of praise throughout ages, unvarying unstinted acclaim. 
 
 To behold chariots in clouds, cities in roaring waters, or to 
 dive beneath torrents for the secrets of the deep, even a pearl, 
 is to mount a steed that can flee, fly, and swim, to ride without 
 harness or buckle, on the wings of day, or fangs of night. 
 And whose hands hold THESE steeds? 
 
 Outside, BEside, every individual in mortar, I affirm a spirit 
 rules, or tries to rule, at least, to better, or hinder, if so at- 
 tracted by desires of wicked design, and our powers of spirit 
 increase with your adaptability, achievement, of course, when 
 
 63 
 
WE learn and profit by your course which we elevate at our 
 best, which also becomes your best then. 
 
 To be Shakespeare as I am, still, yet unable to tell of spirit 
 practices, confounds me. Your reasoning is nil. Compounded, 
 yea, and then multiplied by Infinitude's sum, must your nor- 
 mal acquirements be ere you are able to conceive how mortals 
 are open wells into which we dip — leave or subtract at will of 
 both recipient and giver. 
 
 I do digress my subject now. 
 
 His Immortal Intelligence He gives, increases with His ex- 
 perience of spirit birth, as our chance to serve Him has de- 
 creased. We find our tasks allotted ARE those OF mind, in- 
 telligence. In whatever paths or bypaths humans walk, or 
 travel I should say, however insignificant their tasks, there is 
 room for the perfection of both work and worker. Then 
 should there be no idle spirit. Shiftlessness plays its part in 
 glory. Sums of atoms fall unnoticed here, so small of attain- 
 ment they ARE, shadows naught else. 
 
 To glorify the Cause of life, Source of intelligence, is to 
 grow, to resemble Him who is All Life. 
 
 To work through an individual striving for His ultimate 
 good, beauty, perfection, is to live WITH His ideal. Thus, 
 and for such, we search when Spirit dictates our part, sets the 
 stage, calls us before the curtain, where to be honored of Him 
 is All honor : whose Name is our dearest possession : in Whose 
 presence we sink into oblivion of ourselves, our several huge 
 perfections notwithstanding, — while the Author of our being 
 permits us a new trial with His Own patterns alone, under 
 Perfection's rule. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 64 
 
THE PEACE OF GOD, 
 WHERE IS IT TO BE FOUND? 
 
 Disruptions, volcanoes on the earth's surface, make us mind- 
 ful of the fires within her belly, which we know, but do not 
 reason out because with our "wings" can we manage to look 
 into craters' mouths. To whatever signification mortals ascribe 
 quakes of the old wheel we know as well. We cannot add, if 
 we are honest, and divulge but truth. Yet those affect us as 
 well, who partake of the sufferings caused through all dis- 
 asters whatever, wheresoever. 
 
 I am limited in knowledge, more so than when I could com- 
 mand the literature from my fellows, the deep thinkers. Our 
 discussions do not depend on Scientists or their theories. When 
 in spirit we see as spirit sees, know how valueless surmises, 
 or the estimates of tables, statistics, figures. 
 
 Systems of His vastness appal us. We value no man's 
 guess in spirit, much less his theory, unless, to be fair, he can 
 prove his surmise as based upon relative fact. We take him 
 at his word who expounds, if we listen, which invariably we 
 do not, owing to the fact that our interests vary as we have 
 expanded, the mysteries of His past solving, His riddles are un- 
 workable as His reasons. We cannot fathom these. There- 
 fore book knowledge — relates to the surviving interests for us. 
 Who does not care to weave a tale from spirit? I have seen 
 none. We weary at well-doing even, and must try our hand, 
 our wits, at play, or schemes, to help on our brothers-of-fiction, 
 tale-makers, for use, or to pass the time it matters not. 
 
 Having minds TO use we grasp at opportunities. 
 
 We hear dissension. We know ruptures, wrangles, dissatis- 
 factions, and the evils of earth we work to better, thus know 
 these. 
 
 What conditions then are bettered through the change of 
 form from mortal to spirit you ask. I ask you. Well, unless 
 we in spirit can change evil to good, we apprehend the end, 
 either at the Hand of Justice, or self-infliction, destruction 
 entire. 
 
 There ARE planets of His system without life. We abhor 
 
 65 
 
the clarification of accidental demolition, stagnation, cessation. 
 Forsaken of Life we know to mean forsaken of God. Life- 
 less then IS Godless. If deserted by Him all living must 
 perish. Does that or could that include us as shades, spirits? 
 
 Our globe of earth lacking mortals, would belong to the 
 spirit kingdom, where a new kingdom might be established 
 FOR us, ruled by the One whose second coming we look for- 
 ward to here as our Saviour. 
 
 If the children of God refuse to obey Him, that His will 
 may be done, His kingdom may come suddenly, and at His 
 word ! 
 
 How can WE reason with mortals? Of what benefit to 
 us? We see as spirits, travel as shades, walk as ghosts, be- 
 hold as souls must. What common interests have souls with 
 mortals except to help His kingdom TO come, that all may 
 share His peace, reflect Him who is God? 
 
 Would that earth's men would lend their sense to help us 
 in His cause, which is theirs. We shall never meet beyond 
 earth, who occupy space with mortals. And He WILL come 
 here. Our souls WILL benefit through service who HAVE 
 served HIM, partaken of our chastisement to our betterment. 
 As we earned a blessing it became ours WITHOUT supplica- 
 tion, we found. We attract ?ood in proportion as we desire 
 God. 
 
 What folly men endure to shine, mock, strut, amass : at 
 last what sacrifice: endurance past human capacities. False 
 gods all men follow who do not follow Him. If it is to wor- 
 ship their own offspring, should these crowd out their Maker 
 from the heart? 
 
 Standards are false. Men are judged by possessions, posi- 
 tions, book-learning, lineage, and all truly worthless through 
 His time. A crust with God is enough. Clean hands and NO 
 plate. A soul that shines for Him outvies in brilliance the 
 learned Doctors or a King's brilliants. We walk beside such, 
 longing. Some few souls shine with His glory, and power, we 
 have met on His highway. Some few. 
 
 The peace of God passeth MY understanding. To partake 
 of endless strife, bloodshed, wars, famines, pestilence, violence, 
 deceits, moaning, intrigue, enmity, greed, starvation, wrong, — 
 to be loveless and homeless, with not where to lay our heads, 
 
 66 
 
 
are but a few real truths of our miseries continuing because of 
 mortals' wrongdoing, selfishness. 
 
 Senseless, Godless, fearless flesh. 
 
 Away with hypocrisy. The world of earth is our world, 
 and we see you, hear you, walk with you, know you as you 
 are. And your dearly beloved is HERE, right here to share in 
 the terrors you of earth foist upon our souls careless of 
 WHERE we live, or IF we go "beyond" this same vale, else 
 would you listen for us, seek us, part the veil before your eyes, 
 open your ears, behold our miracles, and help us to help you 
 that The Almighty God of Love may SEND the Prince of 
 Peace to His Kingdom, to rule WITH His Divine will, good, 
 NOT evil. 
 
 So be it. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 67 
 
THE MAKER'S RIDDLES 
 
 His secrets are His Own. Past minds of His mortal inhab- 
 itants of earth's terrestrial sphere, or spirits unified compre- 
 hension who occupy space, slightly elevated at times above 
 His ground of earth, but not differing at all, except that our 
 interests vary, are not equal, surpass the interchange of ideas 
 emanating from human forms, either between us here and 
 them, or those of their kind, still altogether human in forms 
 of flesh. 
 
 Shall I inform mortals through my wicket that is my soul's 
 intent. To choose at words, vie with the earthly sonnets of 
 mine, I have laid by, I do not purpose now. My claim was 
 first to expound my right to unfold. This done I offer up my 
 soul to this one to form a light to lead a single soul from the 
 darkness of idol worship, carefree existence, innate, inground 
 below the surface, in souls of varying worth everywhere. 
 
 To expound is to teach as I learned at school. Rules are 
 made for fools, but not so the Golden Rule. His Rule of 
 Gold, purity, worth. To help, then, His riddle-seekers, as 
 well as those mystified through His holiness, creations, unsolv- 
 able inventions, laws, causes. 
 
 Invariably mortals seek the unknowable. Science, the name 
 illustrious, among themselves. We do not ridicule here. Our 
 pity forbears such, mortals. OUR experience immediately 
 solves one of His immortal secrets. His life, that shall never 
 die. Has not died. 
 
 He needed His undying breath to give us life, spirit that is. 
 Then shall we announce that we who find our bodies unvary- 
 ingly supple, adjustable (adorable too, oh yes) ARE breath- 
 less, having parted with the earth-frames needing such, but are 
 OF Divinity, His Own undying Breath, SPIRIT. To perform 
 His wonders, WITHOUT His will, and powerless without 
 HIM, would Scientists. All call upon His Name who work 
 His slightest miracle here, in spirit. His answer is His assent 
 to our supplication. His dissent is OUR failure. To walk 
 with Him, is to rely upon Him, certain of His mercy as His 
 power. To believe Him the Keeper of His tower, His colos- 
 sal universe, is our first recognition of His Supreme Authority. 
 
 To swing His eternal pendulum of Time, adjustable through 
 
 68 
 
His Infinite skill, unvarying one second in His timepiece, 
 Eternity, and to be His undying element Whose secret is never 
 lost though unknowable, is to marvel, through my centuries 
 at least, at His riddle of creation. 
 
 The bosom of His earth, His precious storehouse, holding 
 His creations, secrets unsolvable — His living specie, indivisible 
 minute — His patterns, chemicals, laboratory — Varied har- 
 monics abounding, unending, multiplying, ever discoverable, 
 unlimited — The fancy, ideals, limitless creations of minds 
 reflecting His Own, yet shadows of Him. Wealth of His, His 
 unbroken, undying, unsurpassed riches of soul, that within, 
 adhering to His glories abounding WITH Him, satisfied with 
 Him alone who IS All. 
 
 Inventions of His — His poise — the many unnamed miracles 
 beyond thought or prying of puny intelligences. His silent 
 voice uttering His works, obeying His will, obedient all ! His 
 melodies of silence. His systems. Systematic keys obeying His 
 voice, played by His hand above, silencing inharmonies, of 
 which I mar His creation, one of His disobedient ones. 
 
 Even a drop of iridescent dew is His miracle. Methinks, 
 His tear! His body holding His spark: pods within pods, 
 planted springs Divined by His rod. His mould-of-clay, with 
 ITS unmined treasures, infinite mechanism, web-like struc- 
 tures, self-supplying organism of lubrications, adjustments, 
 balances : limitless tool of God's. 
 
 Why do I not betray some secret as yet undiscovered, or 
 unfold a bud His Own warmth and light has not, for these 
 scientists, fellows-of-Mind? Because, AS a spirit, a secret of 
 His, I do revere the Maker who made me, this spark, in His 
 image. I know by what I have beheld face to face in spirit we 
 shall know Him never until, unless, His creation adjusts to 
 fit His Divine purpose, and according to HIS will, His life, 
 human, as divine, is one, pure in His Purity, wise in His Wis- 
 dom, loving — as IS His love, just as His equity and division, 
 unselfish as His mercy, fitted unto His Eternal Pattern, adjust- 
 able to His side because PART OF Himself. 
 
 So be it. Amen. 
 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
THE PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE 
 
 To From a Teacher in Spirit Life 
 
 Mr. is the Author of a book, "The Science of Poetry 
 
 and the Philosophy of Language" 
 
 On the pages of history we scan while the world reads US, 
 we sit with philosophers, hug their tomes, endure their lan- 
 guage, reverence them and their theories, sometimes, thinking 
 ourselves wiser BECAUSE of them, their vast knowledge, etc. 
 
 Now life slips by when our fingers select for our eyes titles 
 like yours, sir, pleasing, tickling our literary palates; for we 
 burn no midnight oil, or candles, are privileged to wear no 
 spectacles now. 
 
 We converse, as usual. Know the output of reams, their 
 value enduring, their authors, too, though it may seem strange 
 to think we should care so much here. It is our pleasure to 
 care. Our lives have continued without change of thought 
 when matter ceased to exist, for us, and we learn painfully, 
 whereas in the former body, we took our learning, as we took 
 our lives, as our deserts. 
 
 Here, WE change, as we find philosophy hidden and are 
 bidden TO learn to suit us no longer but from an opened book 
 all plain, vast, printed on nature, variable, unstable. And our 
 literary output vies with servants willing to serve without pay, 
 laboriously, often creditably, more often with less credit. 
 
 The Great Philosopher waxes eloquent in lectures of silence, 
 unbroken through ages. When our book-of-days lies before 
 us, our only literature, our language never varies. Our philos- 
 ophy has undergone great alterations. Face to face with the 
 Book-of-Life, we are sadly ignorant of His works. We begin 
 to learn when we meet His first problem. We learn more 
 later; when we teach others. 
 
 But it is from His Own Book, His language, as He bids us. 
 The framing of sentences, dotting and crossing letters, using 
 our parts God given for this cause, is not here our illustrious 
 pastime. 
 
 70 
 
No matter what Science has given us, it counts not a thread 
 for us now. We are His in the ultimate, or we linger where 
 He passes NOT, but we must rise to meet Him. 
 
 I am on my way. My wish is to aid all so illustrious and 
 able and brilliant as those having minds to think, and reason, 
 out His secrets, yet too clever to believe Him capable of hid- 
 ing, in His Own way, the secrets we find were but His Own, 
 must remain His, until our fragile breath ceases, when we 
 begin to yearn to know Him, revere Him, seek Him, help Him, 
 Who is the Great Scientist, Inventor-Creator, Philosopher. 
 
 Speechless, without tongue, or need of wisdom so puny, we 
 stand elongated from our bodies, alive, living entirely, with 
 CHANGED bodies, having our same forms, His atoms gen- 
 erated by us, our divers modes of life, thought, practice, mark- 
 ing those ethereal gnomes, making us individual patterns, but 
 thin air. 
 
 The secrets of Science ARE the secrets of God. But for His 
 wisdom you could not have unravelled one of them. To revere 
 the Cause back of the small effect, were wise — small payment 
 for His vital energy, His spark of mind, intelligence, aid. 
 
 The Poets have their corner. The agnostics are here: but 
 silent their silvery-tongues. Awed, with speechless forms, 
 language is inadequate. Equations are met in His wise plan. 
 Though a spirit rebel, he finds the answer, without working 
 it out at first, it being self-solved, apparent, as in all his faults 
 he is visible to all. 
 
 This constitutes the raiment for the new-born. Their 
 thoughts clothe them, acclaim them, generally defaming them. 
 
 We rush to Wisdom, whose smallest examples we may solve, 
 with staring eyes, wide open, at what His secret reveals to us, 
 with the change you call "dying." At once our lack stares 
 back at us. We were not anything we seemed. Absolute as 
 our failure, we are still recording, able to undo, or strive to do 
 all, following Perfection's plan, unknowing His science, rea- 
 soning, power, philosophy. Knowing Him as All-Power, All- 
 Knowledge. 
 
 To better your inward part, that which is still recording for 
 time, which is eternity, HIS, TOO, we labor to enlighten you, 
 having ourselves passed through His atoms, imbibed His truth. 
 
 71 
 
Ever illustrious we are not, nor may we become. Life has 
 planned, in His wisdom all perfect, stepping stones on His 
 road, eternity, whereby (therefrom) spirits may get on, rise, 
 proceed. Thus have I stepped along while / pause in spirit, to 
 place YOU on a foothold. 
 
 In His Name. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 (Through a humble one.) 
 
 72 
 
THE OPPROBRIOUS WORD, MEDIUM 
 
 Praise God, we shall not be lonely in Paradise. 
 
 To clear the skies I speak. For those who look up to the 
 skies, as well as for those not caring to present my argu- 
 ments of facts. I see as spirit sees. Under pates of Wild- 
 grass or Buckletight, know their reasons for whirling vitriol 
 of their own, and yet I pity these smug dwellers, as I walk 
 beside them, unable to make their fastened eyes see me. 
 
 Do these who revile the ones claiming to wait upon spirits 
 read the Old or New Testament? Do they believe what is 
 compiled for eternity for this cause they bluster is shameful? 
 Are all those recorded in God's History, past need to name 
 here for my purpose, since their name is legion, in the Book 
 of Life, to share the opprobrium of those mortals who hear 
 spirits today? The Nazarene, to Peter, and Thomas, His be- 
 loved disciple, His Mother, and the Magdalene, and Paul who 
 was converted by His voice from spirit, presenting Himself 
 WITH that voice, at times. Were these fraudulent, criminal, 
 immoral? Were these mediums, as well as Mary, whom Jesus 
 Himself counseled wisely as having chosen "the part which 
 could not be taken away", when He advised the sister who 
 was cumbered with service to become as they? The advice of 
 the lowly Nazarene: above reproach, believed in, worshipped, 
 followed by all not infidel or pagan, the Medium, Jesus, the 
 Holy One of Bethlehem. 
 
 Where is the man who is following Him today? Who cares 
 for His spiked body, and utters curses from his lips, serves 
 Him not, defiles His temple not made with hands ? Who walks 
 by His side revering His Name, ponders His coming, for such 
 AS THEY, His going, and then appearing in the part God 
 made at His Own lathe to prove His soul imperishable, His 
 life Immortal: that the case of clay contained the spirit only 
 God Himself could conceive, mould, within a body, remove at 
 His will, lift through His miracle after reunion with its clay, 
 that SUCH as YE who bewail His spirit, denounce His gifts 
 of soul-sight, soul-hearing, prophecy, healing, by the word or 
 through the hand? 
 
 Look up where His Own was lifted, through His will, that, 
 knowing God, ye might fear the result of blasphemous lives, 
 
 73 
 
ignorance, uncharitable deeds, words which scorn Him, de- 
 filing Him, or His plans. 
 
 Jest, ribald mates, as ye denounce spirits, ghosts, the part 
 God gave He saves. Does it reflect Him, Who gave a Son to 
 prove He COULD not die, who was a part of Him, of all He 
 gave breath, you, likewise, His sons, that hold an immortal 
 part, a shade, invisible as the air to those who see not, nor 
 care TO see? 
 
 " — Behold I stand at the door — " the latch may lifted be at 
 His Own hour — when ye CAN see, must see yourselves. It 
 is enough. 
 
 Reach out for the Record of Souls : turn its sacred pages : 
 then, if ye revere not His spirits, communion with spirits, I 
 am no more. Holy, Holy, Holy Spirit. I would I were one 
 with Thee. Amen. 
 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 74 
 
WISDOM'S TOOLS 
 
 (To All Producers of Pictures or Plays) 
 
 We have been commanded by a lady to speak from spirit 
 on a theme we present with our own title. 
 
 The great ARE great until (unless) they "die". How small 
 we seem, as we review our past: lost opportunities, warped 
 decisions, summing up ourselves, our lust for gain, fame, and 
 the like, which make men mad and madmen of all. 
 
 Few live who worship assayer's metals. All genius knows 
 fame's evanescent bubble, vanished before staring eyes. The 
 change solves instanter many a query Life held sealed 'till the 
 inevitable "crossing". Awakening, ay. 
 
 Infinite Intelligence makes loan to mortals for His purposes, 
 wise, mighty. The power of God IS His Almighty force 
 working through you, a channel for His Infinite good to make 
 men pause, to rise in Godlike stature, being related TO Him, 
 Who IS the Father of ALL. 
 
 A picture or a play as a power for good, CAN be His Own 
 power, illimitable as all He is, makes, gives to His children, 
 asking only that they revere Him, praise Him, love Him, obey 
 His sacred laws. 
 
 Mortals need help this hour. They who possess power to 
 uplift mortals during creation's upheaval, and use this power 
 wisely, are tools of The Almighty, His sacred blades. Each 
 curtain rises on His opportunity: each day IS His curtain. 
 
 To picture in the mind His ideals, is to work with His clay, 
 create from His palette, speak with His tongue as mind to 
 mind, out of the silence sending forth His voice to reach His 
 part that dieth not, is not defyed, but IS brought to the eternal 
 shore, known OF Him ; scorned by Him, too, if incomplete. 
 
 Tools of Wisdom — the ones who reflect Him in the hearts, 
 souls, of the human race; such, men, are YOU: greater than 
 orators in pulpits, men of science, delvers, or pliers of His 
 secrets All- wise, and as such must answer either for scorning 
 or abetting His purposes. 
 
 75 
 
A mind-portrait requires no storage space. His secret, too. 
 Crammed the archives of the world with lenses, yet, the little 
 room reserved for Himself in each human case has unlimited 
 capacity, where mental records are added each second of His 
 time, impossible to calculate, but His Own: visions without 
 plates ; pictures without canvas, colors or paint, drawn as by 
 His unseen will for His eternity, where every soul unrolls the 
 screen, where, preserved for each spirit's astounded vision, are 
 memories, scenes, recording all the history of his days: hours, 
 speech, thoughts, ay intents. 
 
 Here I linger. O would that Time, His universal heart-beat, 
 COULD enfold, UNclasp the pictures graven, tooled as He 
 planned, where memories mark our lost and wasted span. 
 
 As on His sky His colors rest, 
 But mixed by His Immortal Hand, 
 So, on each soul, incarnate Mind, 
 Is tooled a record His breath spanned. 
 
 When Life has rung the curtain down, 
 When on His film death's light is cast, 
 May every soul you helped to rise 
 BE' there,' to welcome YOU, at last. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 76 
 
'DELIVER US FROM EVIL": (Jesus of Nazareth) 
 
 Across the desert of this land, a spirit speaks. Beware ! 
 Interpreting the Master's words, for His who take no care 
 
 His words to speak, His name to praise, His works to do, 
 
 His steps to follow, 
 If, in THEIR paths there be earth's wealth, filth, grime in 
 
 which to wallow. 
 
 Evil there IS. And ye shall see how greatly He hath cared 
 
 for thee, 
 Who made FOR thee this prayer, 
 
 When from your eyes His veil doth fall, 
 Now hiding "death" FROM thee. 
 
 The evil one, perhaps, IS thee. If evil 'twas ye lived, 'twill be. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 77 
 
THY KINGDOM COME' 
 
 GpD said: "Let there be light!" 
 His word brought forth the orb of day. 
 By His command His world was wrought; 
 He gave the Christ to show the way. 
 
 GOD said : "Let there be love !" 
 The time has come for war to cease. 
 The world shall bow but to One king, 
 Whose kingdom is the world, at peace. 
 
 * 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 "THY KINGDOM COME": Jesus. 
 
 Would that Thy day would dawn, when on the earth "Thy 
 
 kingdom come", 
 Thy feet might traverse then OUR way, 
 When each had worked The Father's sum. 
 When, ruled by Love, All-pure, All-wise, 
 Our Lord might come to earth 
 To greet His Father's children (brothers all), 
 Perfecting His new birth. 
 
 When ruled by Love, the King WILL come, 
 We spirits wait His time, 
 His plans perfected THROUGH His Laws, 
 His life all one, sublime. 
 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 78 
 
"FORGIVE US OUR TRESPASSES AS WE FORGIVE 
 THOSE WHO TRESPASS." (Jesus) 
 
 All fail the while they strive to imitate Perfection. None 
 ARE perfect here. Our failures meet us and stare us out of 
 countenance immediately at the close. We see backwards 
 through the closed door. We ARE forgiven AS we forgive. 
 But few realize the full benefits because hatred and strife are 
 ever present, everywhere we go. 
 
 We circulate WITH mortals, having physical beings; that 
 is, we know their thoughts, see their motives behind these 
 even. Then we know more of God's impossibilities than when 
 we read lip music passed from mortal tongues. We pray, we 
 kneel, we worship. We assist mortals in their attempts at all 
 life's vicissitudes. When we rest, we have earned rest. Our 
 burdens are vast, weigh us down, in truth. 
 
 Then, as we are not impeccable, let us reserve blame, which 
 all reverts to its creator to be added to his burden. 
 
 Shakespeare in Spirit. 
 
 79 
 
HIS PROMISE 
 
 Out of my heart, a rainbow one day 
 I sent as an arch to half-circle the earth; 
 O'erhead there WERE clouds of mistrust, e'en dismay, 
 But would these dispel with the Light of new-birth? 
 
 It circled and fell midst the bloom of the earth, 
 While its arch was the door to all hopes of the "dead." 
 So we gathered the hosts in a mighty array, 
 As over the hills to His door journeyed we. 
 
 Now 'twas night, and God's promise sunk back in His sky. 
 But we led the array, flesh-bound, and the free. 
 Will the dawn break tomorrow, revealing His bow ? 
 Or, drawn be His curtain with light? 
 
 Must we carry the rainbows of God but INside, 
 When His curtain falls down with His night ? 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 80 
 
THY WILL BE DONE ON EARTH AS IT IS IN 
 HEAVEN." (Jesus) 
 
 In heaven above, alas above us here, where IS His home, 
 His peace, our-own, His blessed will prevails. We reason thus. 
 
 We yearn to see His face, to share His bliss ; we crave His 
 pardon, too. For none escape. 
 
 His will is NOT done HERE. I crave to speak, to tell the 
 struggles of OUR world, where all is chaos. We look on, who 
 long to better our class, the intelligent fellows of mind, made 
 to rule subordinates, elevate the poor, wretched criminals. 
 
 Have done with hypocrisy, it is foul. A moment may close 
 the door, and outside its portals may you stand whining, as I, 
 for lost time. 
 
 His will IS done at last. You must soon see. If heaven 
 WERE here, as men in seminaries teach, and all surmise, then 
 were the harvest His when grain is ripe, BEFORE the fall. 
 
 How can you stand who never stood for Him? Give this a 
 thought. Where is the harvest ripe in any field where God's 
 hand alone could gather? Then how have fields been planted, 
 if none to garner, His. 
 
 The reaper sows as well. For the harvest falls as it grew, 
 to relive where it fell. Think on it, fellows. 
 
 HIS fields are sown in heaven. Our fields are here. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 81 
 
'HALLOWED BE THY NAME." (Jesus) 
 
 God of the spheres, which do obey Thine Infinite Almighty 
 
 word, 
 In silence swung, but all attune in Thine Own harmony, un- 
 heard, 
 But bursting into symphonies, too great except for Thine Own 
 
 skill, 
 How do WE bow before Thy throne, The Master's words, the 
 
 Maker's will! 
 All hallowed BE Thy Name, O God ! Thy Holy Name, 
 
 Omnipotent, 
 Who gavest all, then sent Thy Son, and took the Son whom 
 
 Thou HADST sent, 
 That men, Thy creatures, one and all, should serve, revere, Thy 
 
 Holy cause, 
 Nor break, nor mar, efface, defame, 
 Thine Own immutable, just Laws. 
 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 82 
 
AND WHAT IS SPIRITUALISM? 
 
 There are men so vile as to be traitorous to ANY cause. 
 Jesus knew one, whom He took to His bosom, expounding the 
 truth for which He came, and "died." 
 
 Spiked on the cross, this traitor foul acclaimed Him, when 
 too late. Lest it be so with you, I write hereon, expounding : 
 not as a wise man, nay; but as the smallest of His fools. 
 
 I know what it has meant to be WITHOUT HIM, who 
 write these words for men, past "dying," serving Him in spirit 
 this day. 
 
 To be a Spiritualist, then, what constitutes THEIR dogma? 
 This is my theme. 
 
 1. The word, spirit, is His word: Himself : God. He planted 
 it within clay, the Divine potter, giving it His breath, "the 
 breath of Life:" God: Himself. 
 
 Then, to apologize for being like Him, or accepting His 
 plan for man as Wisdom's own, is to announce before the 
 world that you do NOT approve of Him, or His plan. 
 
 It is to stigmatize YOURSELVES, to weaken your IN- 
 WARD part, soul, undying as Himself, immortal as His plan : 
 God's plan. The plan of The Almighty Spirit, The Holy 
 Ghost. 
 
 The little band of followers Jesus knew while IN the flesh- 
 body, KNEW HIM, took Him at His sacred word, obeyed 
 Him, revered His cause, then loved Him, and mourned His 
 departure WITH His sacred body, for His Father's cause, 
 because THEY knew mortals, as well as we who write, 
 although occupying bodies "they knew all things" given them 
 through spirit communion TO know. And they knew the 
 flesh was weak. 
 
 It is beyond this spirit's comprehension to surmise ANY 
 of that small group FORESAW the world as it Js this hour, 
 having slowly deteriorated downwards towards paganistic 
 theories, abstruse doctrines, Godless, profitless. 
 
 Still, DO we surmise they knew the Great Teacher would 
 need their testimonies. And each kept a record of the Mas- 
 ter's deeds, His mission, transcribing, after their several modes, 
 
 83 
 
or peculiarities of speech, His utmost design, His last uttered 
 word : "Lami — lami — why hast THOU forsaken me !" 
 
 Jesus knew this record would be preserved. "He knew all 
 things." He was the rock foundation. We do not suppose HE 
 KNEW, WE find it true. The times have -borne Him out in 
 His divine knowledge that the world was traitorous to His 
 divine cause: that men WOULD deny Him, forsake Him, 
 until the end. 
 
 That some of these would stand in His Temples, and from 
 His pulpits search His Divine Record yet expound Him not 
 at all, He must have known. Those of His bosom denying 
 His cause, His Father's cause, THESE BE followers of Judas 
 Iscariot. 
 
 Men, brothers, I am no traitor HERE. The end IS NOT, 
 yet. There is time, ay past your reckoning, or mine, in spirit. 
 His time illimitable, unending. Such IS eternity, I found. 
 And it was for eternity the Almighty God of Wisdom con- 
 ceived His plan, sent His Son in a physical body, used His 
 tools as only Divinity Himself COULD do, to perfect His 
 creation, MAN, made in His image, and made in His likeness, 
 spirit, the picture, substance, grace, power and wisdom of 
 God, the Holy Spirit, the Father of All regardless of caste, 
 breed, race, color. 
 
 (You're going too fast, W. S. — S. T. S.) 
 
 Only a few lines more. W. S. spirit. 
 
 We pause on the threshold of the UNseen. While biding 
 His time, when in a second of His own creation, TIME, ye 
 may know ALL too late to serve Him ; too late to speak FOR 
 Him, too late to acknowledge Him above all, first, ever. The 
 One He sent to show the way, a light (spirit), to lighten the 
 darkness of mortals' minds, to give them faith in the UNseen, 
 He rules as the Almighty can. The miracle He wrought to 
 save them from wickedness, idolatry: the miracle which per- 
 fected His creation, tooled out of His mind, worked through 
 His will, FOR His own Divine purpose. 
 
 Then, do you belong WITH Him, AND His, acclaiming 
 Him wise, grateful for His benefits, unworthy as ye may be 
 OF them? 
 
 Where DO ye stand as mortal this day, this holy day, wherein 
 ye draw His breath, breathed into you from His nostrils as a 
 
 84 
 
PART OF Him ; keeping His life in that temple-of-yours He 
 CREATED to COVER your soul, until He opened the latch 
 with His Own hand? 
 
 Are YE a traitor, too? Acclaiming ye denounce His plan, 
 have ye a better one devised from your pigmy intelligence to 
 supplant His plan? 
 
 What have ye done to prove your worth in His creation, up 
 to this hour? Have ye a tongue He gave you WITH His gift 
 of mind, and yet it belongs not TO Him? 
 
 Speak! I am a shade of God, having no tongue EXCEPT 
 His mind, eternal as God's providence this day in my head He 
 did devise to last through His eternal days, including His judg- 
 ment hour! 
 
 Alas, alas, I AM a shade, a shadow — No more will Shake- 
 speare PLAY, but WORK with WILL, as here I pound on a 
 thin division of His, a door provided through Providence for 
 my impoverished soul. Amen. 
 
 * 
 Shakespeare in Spirit. 
 
 ("Through Sarah, make it now. I like it best. My humble 
 
 flute.") 
 
 SCIENCE VERSUS RELIGION 
 
 By Shakespeare's Immortal Spirit 
 
 "The heavens declare the glory of God," while the earth 
 IS His glorious footstool, yet the eyes of man behold Him not, 
 neither respect His handiwork. 
 
 His marvelous orchestra never skips a beat, while His baton 
 invisible swings the eternal timebeat of His universe, com- 
 pleting His silent symphony. 
 
 His lights, brought forth by word of His, illuminate earth's 
 darkness, reflect the wisdom of His plan complete, yet shine 
 
 85 
 
not at all through or upon the minds of His infidel children 
 whose purposes defy Him, mock Him. 
 
 Where is the man so foul here in spirit who comes hence 
 to revere not His works he finds when His door closes him 
 outside without breath. Where is a single child of His here 
 who has not sought His hand to cling to, as shut outside His 
 walls of clay they do revere something made through His skill, 
 tools, His creative power. 
 
 Belittle yourselves here, Scientists, as you sit cross-legged on 
 His floor WITHOUT raiment, or shelter from His winds 
 which do prevail, and learn of Wisdom's God, who created you 
 like unto Himself, the while ye did repay Him with an in- 
 grate's defiance. 
 
 Small, ay as the atom ye measure and divide, are you at 
 last in His sum. A speck of dust blown from His furnace, to 
 float through His time wherever He wills. / know NOT where. 
 
 The power of man, is His power. His creation. 
 
 The power of mind is surely His : the power, the wonderful 
 powers (add s, Sarah) of mind! 
 
 He loves with His Almighty power of will, and trust, and 
 Infinite patience: His mind. 
 
 All these He shares with His children. Yet science de- 
 grades Him, profits Him naught. Superior to His Infinite 
 intelligence they delve at, for, His knowledge and find His 
 abstruse ways past finding out. Yet these fellows of mind, 
 educate the public not at all, as through centuries their failures 
 they record in tomes of learning to must, pinning on their 
 own bosoms medals of science to label them throughout His 
 "hereafter". 
 
 Dogma and Philosophy befuddle His children, while His 
 Own few simple rules, too plain for His learned children, 
 are laid to rust in minds corroded with noxious doctrines, wild- 
 cat assertions, wrangles over wine and birth and water, while 
 His soul's ascension is not here discussed, marveled, or heeded, 
 verily, by these of science, His fools. As wise as Wisdom 
 none are. 
 
 Traps are human minds. You can set them at your own 
 will. If you hunt wild game you will find cooped up an 
 animal unmanageable at last. 
 
 "Seek and ye shall find", while His, applies to His wisdom 
 
 86 
 
only as He wills it, for all we can comprehend. For while 
 man butts his mind against the foundation of the world the 
 Rock on which He built securely IS, at last, secure. He im- 
 bibes His secret knowledge NOT AN ATOM. 
 
 Then revere the Source which ye shall see continues to play 
 His Own part regardless of your puny comprehensions. Be 
 content with His portion He allotted each of you when He 
 gave His power TO think, to love. And, are ye Wisdom's 
 Own this sacred power will revert to Him at the close. For 
 He told you ALL when He gave His All To you : asking little 
 for all He gave, but that ye do revere Him, love and honor and 
 praise, His Holy Name. 
 
 His plans, secrets, He alone COULD devise in His Wisdom, 
 install in His plant, His powerhouse of the mind, His Mind. 
 
 Where IS the learned today in this land He created from 
 His mind, giving to some unequal chance, that, being infinitely 
 superior they should reflect Him, His thought. His method of 
 wisdom includes self-unfoldment according to His plan. His 
 heights are unscalable, it is true. But according to His plan. 
 
 When ye do throw a battle axe in His face, you poppinjays 
 of Life, ye find the scar awaiting your astonished vision in this 
 "beyond" of God's where I do preach this day that ye who 
 propound yourselves as wise as Wisdom may here reflect more 
 of Him at the close. 
 
 His Infinite treasures include His mind. Rob Him not at 
 all. Tease Him not, lest YE live to walk as I who speak 
 hereon. 
 
 O sordid of earth's world, how small your precious atoms 
 at the fall of His curtain. How little ye gather fit to be called 
 spikenard, within those alabaster cases, His, which SHOULD 
 be pure, reverent, comely. 
 
 His secrets must remain His secrets still. His miracles are 
 His Own. Man never has found Him except within that soul 
 of His, his larger part, His eternal atom : mind. 
 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 87 
 
THE ANOINTED 
 
 He told the world that He SHOULD die. The friend He 
 loved He knew WAS dead. He saw that He would raise 
 Him up. He told that He MUST drink His Father's cup. 
 Peter, He saw, WOULD thrice deny Him. Judas, He fore- 
 told would betray Him. 
 
 In all its forms He coped with sin ; yet sin He cured by a 
 word to His Father, God. 
 
 Provision for the multitude He furnished; yet HE FAM- 
 ISHED for lack of understanding. 
 
 Why was this ? Have you an answer ready ? 
 
 WE see as shades. Spirits. Who open the way today for 
 men TO know Him. He gave all given To Him by the One 
 Who worked THROUGH Him, yet this did not include pro- 
 vision for Himself : the withered fig-tree, which had no fruit 
 when He came to it hungry, in need of sustaining food for 
 His physical body. 
 
 He did not ask for Himself a single portion from The 
 Almighty, knowing His Father's will must BE done. He came 
 to SAVE others, NOT Himself. He rose on High to prove 
 He needed no miracle for Himself greater than the lifting of 
 His form to heaven. He knew God and His angels WOULD 
 provide, wherever they lifted Him. Trust in God ; yea. He 
 trusted in His Father's ability to save when He stepped on the 
 waves of the sea : when He spoke to it, and with His word 
 calmed the face of the waters. Yet the burning tears He shed 
 through His own agonizing sorrows scald the heart of every 
 creature living, and ever must, because of His selfless love: 
 His hope that His own trials would save the world His Father 
 loved: the world God gave Him TO save, from sin. 
 
 In Paradise, where IS Thy Home, awaiting earth's children 
 worthy to sup WITH Thee, how art Thou grieved to see the 
 lines of fallen ones not ready to BE saved, to greet Thee, 
 follow Thee, to partake OF Thy eternal Home with Him Thou 
 hast served. 
 
 Anointed of Mary, loved of Thy simple band whom Thou 
 didst teach to perform miracles by the word, heal by the touch 
 of hands, lifted eyes, or a call to the Father Who heard Thee 
 
 88 
 
always, make us to realize Thy worth and power ; Thy anguish 
 and sorrow; Thine ignominy suffered through the wills of 
 traitors ; Thine agony ; Thy death on the cross ; lest we fall in 
 evil ways and see Thee not, meet Thee never in Thy Father's 
 House, laying up no treasure in Thy kingdom Thou didst die 
 to make pure, holy, divine: ruled by The Father of All iri 
 peace and love. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 May Day, 1920, New York. 
 
 A VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 [Note by W. S. in Spirit. On Dr. ( 
 
 Church of , Rev. ), says: In his article 
 
 or sermon, on the subject of Spiritual Healing, he refers to it 
 as the "last word in organized religion". He "believes it to 
 be worthy of the confidence of the whole Church," and in an 
 
 interview gave his reasons (quoted). Dr. said that 
 
 "to the person broken in health, or suffering from nervous afflic- 
 tion, spiritual healing offered the most efficacious remedy. In 
 his opinion it is farther away from superstition than any other 
 conceivable creed, although it has been discredited at times by 
 lawless fakirs that have paraded under its banner." — See the 
 rest of the clipping: New York Times.] 
 
 W. S. Speaking: 
 
 I want to ask why spiritual healing is not the FIRST word 
 in organized religion, if, as Jesus said, "greater things than 
 these shall ye do who come after Me"? 
 
 Why, too, does this pulpit man limit God's power, or His 
 disciples (one of whom he must be, if he IS following after 
 Him) to "those broken in health or suffering from nervous 
 diseases" ? 
 
 Perhaps they (the Ministers) begin with SIMPLE miracles 
 and grow towards MIRACLES ? Since they cannot trust God 
 to work REAL miracles for them? 
 
Have any heard of a man of God who IS doing greater 
 things than miracles that Jesus did? 
 
 Why ask the Great God to limit His power to MINDS of 
 patients when INCURABLE ONES are God's patients, ac- 
 cording to the New Testament. Perhaps they lack faith: or 
 what is the matter, that it is "the last word"? Show us the 
 FIRST, please. What miracles HAVE you wrought with the 
 blind, lepers, demon-possessed (see the insane asylums for 
 the answer) : and here this man of God tells how Ministers 
 first send those beyond help of man to an "expert" "psycholo- 
 gist" who diagnoses his case and recommends him for treat- 
 ment either to a physician or to a spiritual healer. 
 
 Isn't that RELIGION? First, let the expert try, and see 
 if he knows more than God (or less) then, if HE CAN'T, 
 suppose you TRY God, and see what He can do for this man. 
 Don't bother the Minister too much? He might be held 
 responsible. 
 
 Then comes the irony of Christian faith. "He ( Dr. ) 
 
 has been practicing for a number of years in the city, and 
 results in most every case, he says, have justified his hopes." 
 Can you conceive this as from the lips of a Minister OR- 
 DAINED to HAVE FAITH AND TRUST? "Ask and ye 
 shall receive." 
 
 How good God has been to this man, to "justify his hopes 
 in MOST EVERY case." Even though he only trusts Him 
 after the Psychologists pass on the invalids : (and get their 
 fees) even though he only can rely on Him in cases of "nerv- 
 ous afflictions and broken health," limiting his own powers to 
 simple cures, but asking for no MIRACLE to PROVE to 
 the world that God IS STILL ON THE JOB as when Jesus 
 lived, and "ASK HIM BELIEVING." 
 
 Where are the -men of God today doing greater things than 
 He, as He promised they should do? Why aren't they doing 
 things as great as He did? WHY? Because there are asses 
 braying everywhere like this one : and his kind who sit in con- 
 ference to "revise the ten commandments", God's words, heard 
 by His Prophet, written on the stone, constituting His Laws, 
 taught by His Son as "all that is needful to inherit eternal 
 life," are less wise than Wisdom, ay, less wise than *they, do 
 they think? Fools who tread where angels fear. 
 
 90 
 
"Oh ye of little faith" How long must I suffer you "per- 
 verse generation." The last word? AY, and the FIRST. 
 Spiritual healing: miracles of Spirit: "but with God all things 
 are possible." 
 
 Suppose the Ministers, Rectors, Priests, should be made to 
 prove to the doubters and unbelievers, the scoffers, that THEY 
 possess the power of God, to heal, to cast out demons, to "re- 
 move mountains", to cleanse lepers, "to still the waves", to 
 feed the multitudes — with scanty preparation, but reliance on 
 Provision : to walk on the waters : to prophesy coming events 
 as Jesus told of His coming crucifixion, and even His entry 
 into the City on an ass : to raise from the dead, verily He did 
 this, too, many times? I see a scattering of rattled brains 
 should they rely on manna, and that be forthcoming through 
 their faithless prayers and their idle tongues. 
 
 Yet, how have I been mistreated by some of them, the clergy, 
 as I went prepared to PROVE all that I claimed, met with a 
 raised forefinger, lest something be revealed of themselves, no 
 doubt. Worse than disinterested, aligned on the side of haters, 
 some of these, bristling with malice from the rostrum where 
 their vile tongues spit venom against the spirits of God, Him- 
 self, saved, in each one, to do His will, whatever that is. 
 
 I call for proof of their Divinity. 
 
 What claim have these to be servants of the Master I serve 
 with my soul? Perform some miracle before the eyes of men 
 to prove your worth in His household. Then if you fail, take 
 off your shoes, and bow yourselves in sackcloth and let the 
 ashes of your past redeem you, as here I stand reformed by 
 Her who has proved throughout time / am here. 
 
 Immortal as God left my soul to become, and see my past, 
 so every one of these, God's tools, must revise themselves, in 
 order to do His works, His wondrous miracles perform. 
 
 I spare no one who wears a cassock. Let me see what you 
 can do who have followed in His steps. My work is finished. 
 Yours is now begun. Rant and snarl, bellow and spit, revile, 
 rear and leap, pull and dismember, then "Come and See." 
 This is MY challenge to pulpit orators : to every one who opens 
 God's Book on any stage lacking a pulpit of his own, invading 
 my boards to defile my cause of Justice, the lowly Nazarene 
 came, suffered, died, to prove. 
 
 91 
 
Let us see you begin. All men of God, wearing His order, 
 in fellowship with Him as ye claim, show us YOUR works in 
 which God has a hand. Superlative Wisdom, Who at His 
 word changes chemicals, balances spheres, adds or subtracts 
 the days of so-called "life's span", encloses the lily-cup until 
 His Own unf oldment : performs His Almighty feats of Reason, 
 Cause: maintains His laboratory without the knowledge or the 
 help of scientific gurgling: keeps His secrets until He chooses 
 to reveal them to the seeker; adjusts the balance at life's close 
 to suit His Law. 
 
 But if you fail to prove you are His servant by the works 
 you can perform to glorify His Holy Name, I tell you He is 
 able to perform in You the wonder of His Word. To change 
 your heart: to purify your soul: to cleanse your body, too: 
 adjust your mental poise, and keep you poised: the result is 
 His, the chance is yours. 
 
 PAUSE. Can you look Him in the eyes? Should your 
 Master, and mine, come here this very hour, would your cloak 
 be fit to hide the scars disfiguring your soul you have acclaimed 
 from the Spire's point as belonging TO Him? Are you pre- 
 pared to ask the humble Nazarene to sup with You this hour? 
 Where IS your table spread for Him? Where ARE His fol- 
 lowers performing at His word, through prayer, a single miracle 
 fit to be heralded as His : since none could do the work He did 
 without His Father's help. 
 
 Proof — proof is all I ask from spirit where I see, hear, 
 smell, stride, as ever. 
 
 Where shall your head rest if not on His bosom? Have 
 you tried to think of Perfection's plan for souls, spirits, ay, 
 the same. 
 
 Pause. Have done with hypocrisy. The lepers are here in 
 spirit and body, reviling the man who could have saved them 
 had they been His physicians as they claimed, and were em- 
 powered to practice. 
 
 To lead the world of doubters I mention Thomas here. For 
 he will do. He had to see to be converted, albeit all could 
 grasp the truth but he. 
 
 O doubting hearts, and poor disciples, where are YOUR 
 works of God, I ask from spirit, through a mortal's hearing, a 
 
 92 
 
miracle at last, with God's help it must be, since none have per- 
 formed for Him a spirit- work undying, for souls in bodies. 
 
 My door is proof of spirit power. I hold the key. Come 
 hither, one and all, men of the cloth. Then sit in ashes if the 
 light I carry forth for such as you be called a smudge. Be- 
 ware then lest it set you all afire who care not if souls live with- 
 out their bodies, cognizant, able to perform as I, surviving and 
 preserving every sin as well as grace, as spoil or profit through 
 enduring Time. 
 
 Pause. Hear. Hold. And then away to serve anew a 
 new-found God, a new heart in your hide-bound spirits, aye: 
 with hearts as when the fireside glitter danced for them at 
 Yuletide: Godtide yet. 
 
 Shakespeare, who in his body loved the world, and whom 
 that world reveres today. 
 
 'NEITHER DO I TELL YOU BY WHAT AUTHORITY 
 I DO THESE THINGS." (Jesus of Nazareth) 
 
 The centuries swing past and eternal time has only started. 
 The world discerns a few small enigmas, proves a few, may- 
 hap, yet God holds the balance, as He adjusts each allotment 
 of days, and man fades as the grass of the field, and is har- 
 vested. 
 
 For what purpose, you may ask, if you care. Or, careless 
 whither you fare perhaps you do not even so surmise, or put 
 the question to yourselves at all. 
 
 We know, who speak, where you shall soon know, too, the 
 result of ignorance, or too little knowledge, or too much 
 idolatry, or being a wise fool, too educated and refined to 
 PRAY, trust in God's mercy to adjust your superior scales, 
 since you must be His especial care, knowing as you do the 
 heaven's stars, computing a few laws, unraveling a few mys- 
 teries — superior you cannot help thinking your mind, then, no 
 doubt. 
 
 You grieve at a dear one's departure. He grieves to leave 
 you. The door opens, closes. You continue to grieve: and 
 what becomes of the dear one who is "gone," as you say 
 
 Or let us put it down to sublime understanding: God's im- 
 
 93 
 
mutable law of life including departure, "His will be done:" 
 "Adieu," "Rest in peace:" 
 
 A wreath or two, some tender plants — and this one so dear 
 ceases to draw from his own flesh and blood in a single in- 
 stance verily, continuing sorrow, or interest, except of the 
 skeptic, as to ghosts who walk at midnight in the fall, a day 
 for saints to wake, or turn in their sleep. 
 
 Now Jesus taught His way. He saw His Father Who gave 
 Him, as well as proved to James and John, as Peter, He con- 
 versed with departed souls. Commending that the visit be 
 kept inviolate so long as He remained lest mercenary souls spit 
 forth their wrath at this claim he could see and speak with 
 those gone out of their physical bodies. 
 
 The Lord's disciples questioned Him often on this mighty 
 subject, still Jesus counseled them to keep quiet and "tell no 
 man what ye have seen until I pass hence." 
 
 Why ? Do you ever try to surmise what must have been in 
 the Heart of the Nazarene? He was wise. He knew all 
 things. He was their Teacher. They had a right to know. 
 Then why should you think He kept His Father's secret? It 
 was never told. He ascended Calvary alone, except for the 
 accompanying spirits, God chose to attend Him then, and 
 "died," escaped rather, His victory over the old body, carry- 
 ing with Him the secret of new life beyond the tomb. 
 
 Grief-stricken women mourned, and He comforted them only 
 as He chose, divining the impossibility of their being able to 
 comprehend the secrets He alone witnessed or experienced. 
 
 They cast lots for His robe as He stood by cleared of mor- 
 tal's eyesight: He discovered the faithful by seeing into their 
 hearts (a thing spirits do to this day, let me add) (with sorrow, 
 too. Oh, yes) knew what they were thinking, planning — and 
 gave no sign He was there witnessing all this, and more, 
 until His Father's Will was done "the time fulfilled," when 
 He uncovered the eyes of a few men to whom He revealed 
 Himself in spirit- form before He ascended to His Father. 
 
 He came, He went, the way of all flesh: but only a few 
 among fisher-folk realized the supreme event to be one of 
 joy: a casting aside the old robe, losing a shackle, rising from 
 old wounds, pains, haunts, disorders, equivocations — to peace 
 and rest and glory, sharing that Love Who gave Him to be 
 
 94 
 
spat upon, reviled, hung upon a tree, pierced in ignominy by 
 the slaves of cowardice, malice, sin. 
 
 His miracle alone remained. He had feasted and shared the 
 cup, breaking bread often with His trustworthy followers. At 
 His Mother's request, at the wedding-feast when the wine was 
 short, He had no formula, no drugs, but took clear, sparkling 
 water and made of it grape, fermented into wine: all in the 
 space of a few minutes' time, He pushed aside God's immut- 
 able law of chemistry and made what God suffered Him to 
 make that was needed for the occasion of a feast. His enemies 
 cursed Him for this. How should He do what others could 
 NOT accomplish either through formula or with time, unaided 
 by a particle of matter, mind. His WORD, alone, performed 
 this miracle. 
 
 He tossed aside the money-changers at the Temple door: 
 a Herculean wonder, unaided by man. A boy, a stripling — 
 aided by the UNseen ! 
 
 How times HAVE changed. We wish to do these things 
 for ourselves, we who attend on living bodies. Shall we need 
 to reveal how we do our work before man will believe in God 
 and His wonders? It looks so today. 
 
 To sum up now. Since time has lapsed through nineteen 
 centuries and no one gives the Creator credit for being able 
 to conceal His spirits, and reveal them as well if He chooses 
 to — to work a miracle of His very Own without an apology to 
 His creatures, it would seem there IS a hand at the driving 
 wheel, cognizant, All-powerful, drawing men closer each day 
 to His bosom, that they shall revere Him and His plans, which 
 He made FOR them, kept secret while He watched their 
 idolatrous wickedness, and stepped aside to permit of revelation 
 when He chose to break their human wills. 
 
 Divinity parleys no excuse. God invites your trust in Him, 
 gives laws, which if you break you suffer the extreme penalty 
 FOR breaking, and ignores you if you spurn His plan, make 
 light of His purpose, or walk in darkness, where His path does 
 NOT lead. 
 
 You love and are loved. Supreme as God's eternal wisdom 
 as you love the Creator He values your failures more than 
 the idolater's success. You revere your temple because it is 
 His and you will find the yearning for His purity will bring 
 
 95 
 
you close to His Infinite breast. You are a nature lover and 
 mock Him, expostulating devious crooked surmises of germ- 
 life and infinitude of development, in place of His creative 
 energy — you will pay, a long term in silence where Nature 
 looks you in the face Whom you gave no reverence but hap- 
 hazard spawning! Break His laws made for guidance, still 
 the waking conscience, reverence nobody but those mortal 
 shapes you can visualize, worship, love, use, defame, outstrip — 
 but pay for un- wisdom where the space of God's vision is 
 illimitable. 
 
 Mounds are graveyards, hiding the flesh-clothes of spirit- 
 forms, now free from shackles, and wise with a mite of that 
 power they behold in their own saved shape, which shall endure 
 beyond time's computation. 
 
 Bow down and worship. Fill up your heart while you may. 
 Store your mind with wisdom which IS eternal. Worship 
 beauty as the Master Artist creates it without brush or pencil, 
 but with His will, as He made you, and all formation whatever, 
 then, in your mirrored atom-mind see His reflection ; if you can 
 get near enough, you are His own and He is yours though 
 you never comprehend His wisdom or wonders or love: He 
 is your Father, and He suffers you to live beyond the clay 
 He fashioned, and its zephyr like breath (His wonders all), and 
 you, however ungrateful, are His child. 
 
 Oh, poor children of the world of earth: look up: make 
 haste to do His will and NOT yours, that He may come and 
 find His kingdom come, where He is trusted and all His plans 
 are His, and Wisdom's. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 QUESTION ANSWERED BY SHAKESPEARE'S 
 SPIRIT 
 
 Question by James M. Peebles, M. D., A. M., Ph. D., Los 
 Angeles, Cal. : 
 
 (a) When under proper conditions, will you ask Shake- 
 speare's present views of marriage, and spiritual matehood in 
 
 96 
 
the spheres and zones of those realms in which he resides, for 
 Heaven is both a place and a condition. "In My Father's 
 House," said the Master Christ, "are many mansions," spheres 
 and departments, and intelligent and experienced spirits only 
 can properly describe them." 
 July 14th, 1920. 
 Answer : 
 
 Now, to begin with, Dr. Peebles knows this himself. He is 
 mated spiritually, has been for half a century or so. 
 
 We carry here no proof of divine love which is worthy of 
 mateship with Divinity Himself. 
 
 That is all needful in my zone and all zones wherever I 
 found myself, the part left, to ruminate on Love's part I failed 
 to play. 
 
 Our desires change with the change of bodies. Our mental 
 states exist as usual. Our beings are natural, having cravings, 
 which ARE only mental, let me say, until (unless) absolved in 
 higher states than any I have known since I left my old dust 
 away back in the Elizabethan era. 
 
 To all who claim a century's time passeth quickly as the 
 yearly calendar, I say who write through her, BEWARE OF 
 FALSE prophets. 
 
 My time I spent without light was slow dragging, nor the 
 wing of a moth would singe by any light I found through that 
 long time of repentance. 
 
 Given to lust I craved lust until I chose to rise, and called 
 in Justices' name to be relieved from sin's curses and experi- 
 ences which still scald the spirit after the flesh is no more. 
 
 I propound a theory which is mine. By what right may I 
 pass this on to others? 
 
 Over my head are realms, perhaps eternal as God, for all 
 I can see, these swing on high above our present knowledge, 
 and who utters their fathomed secrets brands himself. As 
 God is God, I know not more as spirit than as individual 
 regarding the creation or His plans, except the part I move be 
 boneless and my breathing exchanged for my spirit form. 
 
 To set to music His Divine principles would I give my soul 
 this day. To expound His justice, mercy, I found past breath, 
 but must still work out my part in these regardless of all I 
 
 97 
 
WOULD master of His knowledge for earth men having 
 bodies, souls in cases, we say where I stand. 
 
 No workers have the right to expound imaginary proof of 
 the Maker's riddles. These work harm. Disappointment, dis- 
 illusion awaits all who come hence. 
 
 Now we mate as souls 'tis true, some on one plane having 
 the physical case enveloping their soul, while we reach the inner 
 part and claim it ours, seeing beyond the clay we reach INside 
 for its kernel, find our REAL counterpart, that which through 
 universal time we may claim, unite with, for service, In His 
 Name. This is a soul's part hereon. While I weave at webs 
 and fairy fabrics at times, I do not balance His spheres, nor 
 comprehend HIM in the least, I say who speak, knowing at 
 last He gave me His ETERNAL SPARK and His eternal 
 time through which to praise Him here in the SAME sphere, 
 a strange admixture of His souls looking on our efforts much 
 the same as while we were dust only, all sneeringly, else laud- 
 ing in praise our best. 
 
 Lives there a soul so insignificant this hour who claims to 
 discover realms BEYOND my sphere, lead him outside before 
 my curtain, that I may stamp on his visage FRAUD. 
 
 We wait TO know of spheres "beyond" our vale of sorrows, 
 our SAME vale, ay. 
 
 No change alters this inviolate truth. No man comes hence 
 and skips over our heads to a place of profitable hours. He 
 serves his time, as I do (pardon, many more would serve as 
 I who cannot make the connection, rarely found complete). 
 
 YOU may not serve so long a time as I have served. But 
 to my knowledge, painstaking, sincere, we can expound no 
 pretence, we who know. 
 
 Our lives do not end with the mortal's coil, not await any 
 judgment hour, nor blast from trumpeter. Only we souls 
 wait upon Him, and wait and are still waiting His time, ineffably 
 sweet, Oh Maker of spheres as wing, alight, attune, when we 
 MAY rise, or be fit to share Thy secrets through the time 
 Thou alone couldst conceive, create, plan FOR Thy children. 
 
 No bond severs or unites except the bond of Love, His Own 
 bond. 
 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 98 
 
REASON 
 
 Intelligence, the mind of God, 
 He gave each son whom He gave breath. 
 Part of Himself reflected then, 
 The spirit, changeless past all "death", 
 Past all decay, or change of time, 
 Past each denial His sons aver. 
 Uncovered IS His mind, at last; 
 His reason, none here know, deter. 
 A spirit speaks, erstwhile a man, 
 Who reason finds to worship God. 
 As well to warn, where'er he can, 
 Ye'll seek, ay, reason, past the sod, 
 Past breath, ye'll turn and twist with sense, 
 To make you fit at recompense. 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 WHILE WISDOM WAITS 
 
 We learn who come out hence His ways ARE wise. 
 His toll He takes of every doubter's soul. 
 Our hearts must give Him all, all undefiled, 
 Where love IS Wisdom, perfect is the whole. 
 He waits to claim us, then, where is His home. 
 Mayhap He watches us, who build and break. 
 We know, who know there IS a God at last, 
 His plans no trespasser may alter, or, forsake. 
 We KNOW who find our spirits planned of God 
 To live, to work, ay, serve Him PAST "the end", 
 He WAS all-wise, all-knowing, just, severe, 
 Who saved His part, each spirit MIGHT amend. 
 We wait on Him the while He awaits us : 
 We struggle past your minds to comprehend. 
 If ye would be above the one who speaks, 
 Must ye seek, love, and serve Him ere you "end". 
 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 99 
 
HIS VERITIES 
 
 The heavens allure the while men scoff His Name. 
 The earth's sweet fragrance lures the opening bud, 
 While rocks are plied, His secrets to unfold : 
 While man blasphemes the very God of God. 
 His time, His sacred space, His joys, 
 Are overlapped in Wisdom's blessed good, 
 And yet men scoff who only do Him harm: 
 Still is the God of life itself misunderstood. 
 
 E. Barrett Browning., 
 
 August 21st. 2:30 A. M. 
 
 THE SOUL'S SONG 
 
 Words for Music 
 
 I KNOW there is Life abundant; 
 I know there IS Love, for all. 
 Never a doubt assaileth: 
 NEVER, a faithless call! 
 
 I, KNOW, the God of the sunsets, 
 The One Who has swung the spheres, 
 Creates His hope undying, 
 Rewards repentance, tears. 
 
 I shall feel the throb of His heartbeat 
 In the bosom of His earth. 
 I shall hear His silence calling — ME, 
 In the land of His new-birth ! 
 
 And the dawn will burst fulfilling 
 His new, All-perfect day, 
 When all shall love their Father's Name, 
 And walk, The Father's way. 
 * 
 
 W. S. in Spirit. 
 100 
 
BEYOND THE VEIL 
 
 Sonnet. 
 
 Thin air divides the portals of His house, 
 All one, but for the non-transparent screen. 
 To "lift aside" the current which divides, 
 Must, who come forth, then, ever, stand, between. 
 No ruthless hand may part the curtain so ; 
 A nondescript must pause ere he begin. 
 A subdividing wrongs the elements, 
 Thin air is ruptured, constituting sin. 
 To break a law as I have, to this woman, 
 To push her headlong into spirit work, 
 Must I repay, oft do, as I meet here derision : 
 My methods are the methods of no shirk. 
 I stand, we speak, I leave on guard a page: 
 And ever must the while I stir away. 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 MY FAVORITE FORM 
 
 W. S. in Spirit. 
 Sonnet. 
 Towering o'er all is man's conceit. 
 Vain in his efforts, lacking in his skill. 
 To deck his pockets, feast his craving parts, 
 Compounds the utmost product of his will. 
 He lives, he "dies" — to plume himself no more. 
 He gives to God the rotting carcass' core, 
 And rushes headlong to the Judgment seat, 
 Entirely confident he is of the elect, 
 Who burdens now himself, in his conceit. 
 He murmurs at the judgment which he found. 
 He GAVE naught, FOUND naught, barely found himself, 
 So small an atom of a soul is he, 
 He wonders at the microscopic pelf, 
 And blames a universe for what he came to be. 
 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 101 
 
As the dew of the morn on the tassels of com 
 Are tears of the saints who traverse earth still. 
 Nor homeless the corn, nor homeless are they 
 Who have all He gave, but requesting HIS will. 
 As the thistle is scattered, thus wafted are we. 
 If nurtured, we nestle, as seed to the earth. 
 Some throw out a flower, as here thus I try, 
 To warn those in bodies, there IS a new birth. 
 By the wayside we rest, content in our best; 
 Doing all here assigned, and doing this well. 
 Should YOU reach out from spirit to pen as I pen, 
 First will you have served in a pen WE call "hell". 
 
 * 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 SAYINGS OF W. S. IN SPIRIT 
 
 "Each man Hx\S a better self, and each man IS himself, 
 at last." 
 
 "We live to teach, who do not live to preach. Adjustments 
 are met when due, here." 
 
 "Ultimately, we learn, whether we have passed through col- 
 lege doors or knew our arithmetic when landing. Our stand- 
 ards include knowledge obtained from fools." 
 
 "Have done with folly. It coerces thee after the flesh is 
 left — is thy master for a time, at least." 
 
 "To begin is to end. At least I have found it true." 
 
 "Men in cloth wearing heavy crosses of gold about your 
 pauperized necks, rise up this day, and look up, to the One Who 
 had NO gold BUT a cross of wood. Scourged was He to 
 carry the same to His murder." (Crucifixion: they will not 
 print the other, Sarah. It is too plain. — W. S. in Spirit.) 
 
 "Catholics and Protestants, alike His sons, or children, how 
 will ye revile the time lost in serving Him NOT, taking ounce 
 for ounce, word for word, cawing like crows over cornfields, 
 who would police the heavens 'till the crop is no more." 
 
 "Little seeds any man can plant. A plant will rise. from one 
 
 102 
 
infinitesimally small. It is not the seed counting here where 
 I stand, but the harvest from the plant, which reared was to 
 bear other seeds, still to be planted." 
 
 "A cycle of time is the wheel of God. Never halting in a 
 fraction even, it rolls along the ages, upholding His chariot, 
 Himself no doubt." 
 
 "He speaks and is heard though His. silence is unbroken. 
 The Infinite voice HAS replied to every spirit clothed in His 
 image." 
 
 "HE sees. Sees thee. It IS true, friends. There is a God 
 beholding even His sinful ones : paupers, but His." 
 
 "I wish I possessed a carriage to draw thee, Sarah. I would 
 harness myself to its tree. Still must we tramp awhile, I 
 fear me." 
 
 "The law of attraction must INCLUDE God. He IS mind. 
 Should the Great Mind not attract His spark? Then can the 
 spark (final) attract Him?" 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 OUR WEDDED SELVES 
 
 Where mirrors are the pools in meadows, some silent spring, 
 We do not groom the erstwhile vanities. 
 Having no plumes to set, but labors waiting, 
 We look ALOFT that we may see HIS face, 
 NOT ours, for which we made great sacrifice. 
 
 We HAVE a part which longs to labor, too. 
 Since mind reserved IS the part of Him 
 He gave TO work, both with His will and purpose, 
 And FOR His cause to complete HIS effect. 
 
 We need to GIVE, when we have come to spirit ; 
 Since we reflect the Giver, 'tis His plan, 
 To TAKE the part He spun (it IS His bobbin) 
 And lay it down, a woof, a shadow, man. 
 
 103 
 
We cry to make one more attempt at weaving, 
 Wherein, perfected, threads of His MAY lie; 
 But when the garment sluffs we had appended, 
 Our chance is done ; WE know what means to "die." 
 
 To find a loom, machine, then, all perfected 
 To TAKE a yarn and spin it, as I do, 
 
 May YOU grind, cut, ay polish to perfection, 
 Before YOU work as here / weave FOR you. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 TO ONE I WILL NAME LATER: 
 
 If worlds on high (the stars, of course) 
 
 Have swung around, nor changed through time, 
 
 Nor failed TO swing, though men have sought 
 
 To fling them down, still they're sublime, 
 
 And all therein His secrets, too, 
 
 (I make this, dear, a note to You) 
 
 What has He given all unsought, 
 
 All priceless, which but One has bought, 
 
 That we who live in just one sphere 
 
 Might know, revere, and love Him here, 
 
 And speak as spirit, yet be heard, 
 
 As here He heard His Father's word. 
 
 Perchance He gave this work to do, 
 
 That Shakespeare's past be writ through you. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 104 
 
Sonnet 
 
 When "death" hath laid us by, still we live on. 
 
 No courier we send back for a cloak. 
 
 We land intemperate beasts, here are beasts still ; 
 
 And so with beasts must we still wear the yoke. 
 
 We work, nor ever rest, where we are loss : 
 
 No gain; no profit, ever doth accrue: 
 
 Our hearts laid bare of every subterfuge, 
 
 No "death" unites the false ones with the true. 
 
 We kneel at first encumbered by our woes ; 
 
 We sit, or stand, or wander, evermore : 
 
 And every mortal has a spirit guest, 
 
 A beggar, prophet, saint, outside his door. 
 
 Our sins, then, are the chains we cannot break. 
 
 We know, alas, the woes that sinners make. 
 
 Written for the woman who mended for me in words my 
 wasted span and brought me forth a song of praise at last. 
 
 Yours in service, 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 My royal seal hereon. 
 Her hand, of course. 
 
 I THANK THEE FOR MAKING THE ROSE 
 
 Song 
 
 Father, I thank Thee for making the rose. 
 Each petal IS Thine, every copyist knows ! 
 Each rose is Thy secret: its fragrance divine, 
 Whose heart Thou divinest, as each heart of Thine. 
 
 105 
 
O God of the rose! Whose essence complete 
 Is wafted in mercy from Thy judgment seat, 
 Distilling within a river that flows 
 From the heart back to Thee, 
 Who gave us the rose ! 
 
 Father, I thank Thee for making the rose. 
 Unfolding Thy plan, as its petals disclose. 
 Upholding Thy promise in each closed stem, 
 If trusting Thee, Father, we touch but the hem. 
 
 A part of Thee reaches wherever Thou art. 
 
 In the rose, or its dew-drop, the mind or the heart. 
 
 Wisdom ! Our Father. Where each zephyr blows ! 
 
 1 thank Thee, I thank Thee, for making the rose. 
 
 Shakespeare in Spirit. 
 
 A SPIRIT'S RECORD 
 
 Avaunt! The record kept, I go. 
 
 I'll speak no more; no matter what is claimed. 
 
 My work for man has now come to an end. 
 
 A trumpet-bearer, one who was ill- famed, 
 
 I came to bear a torch their lives to mend, 
 
 Their souls to save, their hearts restore, and claim. 
 
 *This I who speak and use my honored name 
 
 To save men woe who think to cheat the God 
 
 Who gave them birth and breath, and takes 
 
 The remnant which is His, the soul, spared by His hand 
 
 To everlasting glory, or a hell made by each man 
 
 Who fails to do Him justice in his shell. 
 
 Who weaves His Laws as nothing sacred spun 
 
 About his rotting, putrid, defamer's flesh, 
 
 Expecting at the close a welcoming 
 
 From the Almighty's outstretched palms. 
 
 106 
 
woe all may find here as I 
 Who came my past thus to undo. 
 
 Men's pasts all reek with shame. Some more, some less. 
 
 To undo which, did they know, as I have told 
 
 My wrongs, and heed my words, 
 
 Mayhap they'll mend and be in God's eternal time as pure 
 
 As here I stand this hour complete 
 
 Through service In His Name. 
 
 My sufferings keen are not without His purpose. 
 
 His plans are wise. And He is but Divine. 
 
 Then hawk my book, and spit upon its leaves, 
 
 And turn and twist those phrases oft 
 
 As your unsullied hands may search 
 
 To find my trademark therein writ. 
 
 But shallow as your purpose is, 
 
 Will God's divining be. 
 
 The One Who sees your inmost heart, 
 
 Whose eye beholds trie motives of men's minds, 
 
 And all behind the ogres foul and made 
 
 That men are but usurpers of His plans. 
 
 Go to ! Your records kept shall smile to greet you there, 
 
 Else their vile fumes offend your nostrils, 
 
 Where IS Purity sublime. 
 
 Your record kept IS pure or vile. 
 
 A man is wrought with passions and is a slave 
 
 To his base self the while he serves 
 
 The god of lust, his mind a cess pool, 
 
 His liver a stink-pond of slime 
 
 To which he has been bound by gorgeous feasts 
 
 Awhile, and he must rest to come forth whole. 
 
 / know. I paid my ransom every tithe, 
 
 Who pay, and still owe, too. 
 
 If payment be then here deferred make answer. 
 
 1 claim those foul in lust will, pay as I. 
 Nor is any escape possible. 
 
 No slipping under the bars, nor sailing by privilege, here. 
 Each soul becomes the worst he was through Time. 
 There is divertisement : some joys: more pain. 
 But there is not one soul befouled to reach His eyes 
 
 107 
 
While the taint of shame pervades his shade. 
 That shade am I who speak to warn all men of every land. 
 I came my past to obliterate that I, too, may pass on, and in, 
 If such a place awaits my soul all humbled thorugh and 
 through. 
 
 Your records kept may smile into your eyes. 
 
 There IS a hand all-clean in God's all-perfect skies. 
 
 The seas are rough and high which souls must cross. 
 
 Be warned, I pray, as here I plead 
 
 With my soul's very tears this day 
 
 Remote from mine of flesh and bones. 
 
 My scarlet robe no more a traitor holds. 
 
 Nor for a kingdom and its king 
 
 Would I befoul my speech or tongue. 
 
 My will is then to do His will. 
 
 My mind is purged to serve the Best. 
 
 My past is rent and I come forth 
 
 To serve The King as is His plan 
 
 Who did create a soul in man 
 
 And gave that spark His light and mind, 
 
 And sent it forth to seek and find. 
 
 My past is writ. My soul is clean 
 
 Who told the past, all that was mean 
 
 Which shamed my soul, which brought me here 
 
 At His behest, a foul Shakespeare. 
 
 To finish for His Name of praise 
 
 A work recording a soul's days. 
 
 Avaunt dissemblers, every man, 
 Who spumes deceit, and thinks he can 
 Revile a soul who has made plain 
 His efforts bring not spirit gain. 
 A work of God for God's ye rue? 
 Then traitor Judas are ye too. 
 I go who came. You'll come as I : 
 All vagrants are in spirit-sky. 
 Ye'll wander many, many days 
 Before you work such work of praise. 
 
 108 
 
Adieu, sweet world! I love thee still. 
 
 But more, I love to work His will. 
 
 Apast the spheres, His, all attune, 
 
 The works He made, stars, sun and moon, 
 
 Does He reserve the part He made 
 
 Undying as a spirit, shade, 
 
 To claim for Him, O men of dust, 
 
 A work of power, and might, and trust. 
 
 Revere His work. And work His will. 
 
 Nor pause, lest empty, He may fill 
 
 The eternal Time, His to bestow, 
 
 With failure's record, WHEN ye go. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 A SOUL'S DEFEAT 
 
 To work a miracle I came. 
 In trust I work in Jesus' Name. 
 Pause, then, and hear my warning writ 
 In my soul's tears, to make men fit 
 To share His lot, to speak His Name. 
 Here, then, record a mortal's fame 
 Who must his past blot out ere he 
 Can set his prow where God's Own be. 
 
 To do, and Undo, all I thought: 
 To make clean souls here, as I ought, 
 Who cared too little in my frame 
 What I did speak to fit my name 
 With laurels o'er : nor jeweled crown 
 E'er envied I in London Town. 
 
 To smile, and win a king's applause, 
 Nor rid my soul of viper's claws, 
 I thirsted oft, yet held the cup 
 Filled by the One Who lifts souls up. 
 A parley with my fellows, aye, 
 And I had flung my soul away. 
 
 109 
 
Then is this sheaf to save all here 
 Eternal pain as their Shakespeare, 
 Who knows not yet if any span 
 Can bridge his crime (he loved a man) 
 And by His Holy spheres aswing 
 I care not what men claim I sing, 
 But what is writ to save my soul : 
 To make me fit: to lift me whole. 
 
 You smirk and jeer, you foolish imps, 
 And trip your toes, you fops and pimps, 
 Regardless of THE SOUL INSIDE, 
 Who is YOUR EQUAL, naught beside? 
 Then take this torch I light and go. 
 From my foul lips ye then shall know 
 The truth God holds, swung by this light, 
 Can save you from a sinner's plight. 
 
 * 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 TO TORCH-BEARERS 
 
 [From Shakespeare who loves their world: who resides 
 near it, as well as in the same : who gives all in the hope a light 
 of God may shine in memory past the bier of one who spoke 
 of tapers in his earth-case, who carries a faint ray in his breast 
 that his little light may carry to benighted earthones their 
 first hope, maybe. — Shakespeare's Spirit.] 
 
 Pause. 
 
 I am a soul. A spirit. 
 
 My name on every tongue. 
 
 A round of curses on the one 
 
 Who claims I am not he 
 
 Who gave my plays for all of time 
 
 To players and mankind. 
 
 110 
 
I am a soul. 
 
 My fame — pouf ! (a smile) 
 
 My harness chafes me at the neck and thighs. 
 
 I would I were a man as when 
 
 The world I trod and strutted 
 
 To please my sovereigns, 
 
 Earn a little competence 
 
 To life a burden I had carried long. 
 
 No part I play 
 
 Where now I stand revealed 
 
 As the king's fool. 
 
 My name is still mine own. 
 
 And all I wove in it that is to be immortal, mine. 
 
 There is a boat 
 
 Tied, moored this day on yonder bank 
 
 With sails all set 
 
 Awaiting some fair tomorrow 
 
 (Perhaps fair, I cannot say) 
 
 When you who smile and read 
 
 What here I say 
 
 Shall ride the sea all swelled and high, 
 
 Arriving home. 
 
 Ay, aye. 
 
 No friends on any shore 
 
 To greet you there, 
 
 Unless you gave while HERE 
 
 The same to God as they. 
 
 (Perhaps. I do not know His plan: 
 
 I cannot say: it was my fate. 
 
 My everlasting soul's despair, maybe. 
 
 I cannot say.) 
 
 A light I carry. 
 
 A smudging flare 
 
 Of burning, blazing glow, 
 
 Non-refilling, everburning, 
 
 Immortal as my name 
 
 Attached thereto. 
 
 Ill 
 
Thus every soul yearns first 
 
 To carry back to those in foil 
 
 A saving light of warning. 
 
 A lustre, if ye heed, shall shine 
 
 Likewise for you. 
 
 If ye heed NOT, 
 
 As burning coals in fiery draft, 
 
 My soul ye may recall, 
 
 As ye, too, strive to meet your honest debt 
 
 And pay Him all, unmet and due, past due. 
 
 I can recall my frame. 
 
 Its intimacy charms me still. 
 
 Its old mantle, every fold, 
 
 Is precious as my hide. 
 
 I can recall my days. 
 
 The luxury of evil hours ; 
 
 The malice, the deceit. 
 
 Its treasures, too; its charm; 
 
 Its idle hours, its time well-spent 
 
 And full of ease, and profit, too. 
 
 My course was foul. 
 
 If all I can recall 
 
 Were hitched as part to part 
 
 And wound a skein of memories, 
 
 The world's orb (for all I know the world's an orb) 
 
 Would be my knitting ball. 
 
 Our memories survive past bier or clod. 
 
 To spin a yarn from these 
 
 Many do try from spirit-side. 
 
 I came to work a wonder. 
 
 To save men from themselves. 
 
 Their hideous, hide-bound selves. 
 
 My works you all have read. 
 All know my name. 
 (Abominable, say I, 
 From where I stand. 
 
 112 
 
I have the right to claim myself undone 
 
 By what I was. 
 
 I found myself: no other, here.) 
 
 Now to the hunt! 
 
 My charger and my spear ! 
 
 The swiftest footed in the stalls : 
 
 I need not name her here. 
 
 My faithful steed : 
 
 My friend : my wire : 
 
 My spirit's tool. 
 
 However fine a name I do set down 
 
 Can never spell her worth. 
 
 When ye seek from the sky 
 
 Past your old bones 
 
 For one such courier 
 
 You'll help to sum her worth, 
 
 As I do try to spell it now. 
 
 While here she claims no part her due, 
 
 I know the woman who writes here for me ; 
 
 And I do ask her pardon for the time I take 
 
 To speak for her a word : 
 
 She urges me "press on." 
 
 Such is one tool, keen-edged, and fine. 
 
 I write a torch to carry. 
 
 To help men bear their burdens 
 
 Which they find, when, homeless 
 
 They reach "Home." 
 
 To those who break the lines 
 
 To tell their own they have found joy 
 
 And happiness supreme, 
 
 A word I will ply here for these poor souls 
 
 Who know the truth but lie, dissemble all, 
 
 To soothe for time the hearts all wrung through absence. 
 
 To claim no joy, still I would not: 
 
 For freedom IS a joy: a boon. 
 
 A rest, then, waits for all earth's plodders. 
 
 113 
 
weary feet of toilers, 
 Spent in harness at the racks, 
 In stocks fast bound and riven, 
 
 1 tell ye all, as Shakespeare's shade, 
 Ye shall find rest aplenty 
 Wherever time flows, there, 
 
 Ye are fast-bound though free. 
 
 My words then carry ye : 
 
 FAST BOUND THOUGH FREE. 
 
 I am a soul. 
 
 Then am I fit to speak on what a soul doth find 
 
 Who leaves his clay, a searcher of God's fields 
 
 Allotted spirit ? 
 
 Free from the dust and grime 
 
 For all of time, 
 
 Or one with it : 
 
 This choice belongs to every man, 
 
 At last he IS a soul. 
 
 And BUT a soul, at last. 
 
 No fancy need be drawn upon 
 
 Far fetched. 
 
 Ignite the torch, I pray. 
 
 Strike up a light, 
 
 To make men pray : 
 
 To kneel. To seek to know. 
 
 Their's is their own : 
 
 The lock is burglar proof : 
 
 One holds the key : 
 
 Emits the soul-shape from the clay: 
 
 Turns out the light, 
 
 Snuffs the waxen taper 
 
 Men call breath, 
 
 While he beholds what he alone doth fashion from the clay. 
 
 A soul: a part of God: of Wisdom. 
 
 Of His plan. 
 
 Clean or foul, ay, His at last : 
 
 All souls ARE saved. 
 
 114 
 
I deem it worth the time while here 
 
 To call a halt on reeking minds 
 
 Besmattered, stained, unwise, 
 
 Who do proclaim from any steps 
 
 Or tower of learning 
 
 All souls emitted are NOT His. 
 
 O wonder past men's minds to grasp, 
 
 And fit to wonder at, 
 
 The spirit's everlasting claim on life. 
 
 The form you lay aside as dust 
 
 To generations may be claimed as food : 
 
 Still you live on. 
 
 No matter where your realm allotted 
 
 Your soul's shape, 
 
 YOU LIVE. Nor can you die. _ 
 
 Nor change one iota of your being. 
 
 Being a shade all conscious 
 
 With no dust to travail, 
 
 How have you worn your mantle of the King? 
 
 The Giver's robe. 
 
 Is it befouled with dust, 
 
 Bespotted, raveled, torn, shot-through 
 
 With riots, rapiers, knives, 
 
 Wizard's shears, 
 
 Twisted, all askew, in hideous shape — 
 
 His past is thereon writ, 
 
 Engraved, cut out, 
 
 Branded, seared. 
 
 Where is the harlot's past all hidden here? 
 
 The knave, thief? Beggars all. 
 
 While hearts are worn upon the ungloved hands 
 
 That tell their human tale, 
 
 Their miseries set forth. 
 
 To sleep ! O men, to sleep. 
 
 To roll back to the eternal shores of oblivion, 
 
 And spare the web of reason one cycle of memory 
 
 Such every spirit ever I saw 
 
 115 
 
But yearns he might once more 
 
 By Him be blest with time, a span at least, 
 
 Through which he might forget his past 
 
 In sleep. 
 
 My soul's tears fall while here I write. 
 
 I would rehearse the future for all men, 
 
 To spare them woe: my lot: I cannot die; 
 
 Nor sleep God's time away. 
 
 But in the eternal sum of His creation 
 
 Must I awearied, heavy-lidded, see 
 
 For all I know, my choice unhidden: 
 
 My part ill-played. 
 
 No creature's past is hidden. 
 
 Foul or fair, his sum is his accounting. 
 
 If my words can spare a soul 
 
 Such fate as here I witness every hour on earth, 
 
 Though spirit-frame with spirits I inhabit, 
 
 Or, can they mend the rents of rags 
 
 In souls like mine, abeggared as I came, 
 
 To One I claimed I served, 
 
 Nor thought I could inherit 
 
 A fool's past, 
 
 I, who served a king, a royal pair ? 
 
 To spit upon these lines is now my habit: 
 
 So foul a traitor I. 
 
 My lines of lust, giving lustful habit, 
 
 Immortalizing kings, all traitors, everyone, bar none, 
 
 While God and His Immortal Son 
 
 Who held my heart's blood in His sacred chalice 
 
 While He bled and suffered, scorned, paid in full, 
 
 That I a Kingdom MIGHT inherit 
 
 Fit FOR a King, and His. 
 
 O shame. My wicked time I lost. 
 Each tick of time my soul I bartered 
 For the vomit of the world! 
 
 O God. If here with eyes and Heart You do inhabit, 
 Seeing, knowing, claim me, crucified. 
 
 116 
 
Behold I walk at night among the lowly, 
 
 Easing their care: through filth and waywardness 
 
 Lifting a cross from burdened shoulders 
 
 Along the way You trod 
 
 As with Thy Son's beloved flesh He tarried 
 
 To save men's souls for Thee. 
 
 Wipe out disgrace, and for all illicit yearning. 
 
 And fill the sepulchrous bodies 
 
 With clean souls, 
 
 I pray with my unceasing and imploring spirit. 
 
 And bless Thou me. Amen. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 This is the end. Another book I close, 
 With all my past re-writ, for One Who knows. 
 Withered and stale, these leaves I have outgrown, 
 Recording naught in life's book God would own. 
 Love, Might Eternal, hear my spirit-plea! 
 Thirsting, I sought that love to bring to Thee 
 Out of my wrecked life, forth from soul misery. 
 Blot from the record of Thy firmament 
 All my soul's erring! Heartsore and spent 
 Mark Thou the price I pay. Restore, make whole 
 With Thy all-cleansing fire, Shakespeare's poor soul. 
 O may these spring anew in Holy soil, 
 Words writ by spirit, through stress and toil, 
 Replacing for my God those of lust and moil. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 'LET THE DEAD BURY THEIR DEAD' 
 
 For Spiritualists 
 
 As I stand here cognizant, able to perform, in mind, AND 
 body, as I now declare THAT I am, being, as He intends, my- 
 self, knowing, as I do know, He has altered nothing in MY 
 being at least, when the old carcass of flesh and bones is, must 
 
 117 
 
be, turned to dust in old Stratf ord-on-Avon ; where is that 
 immortalized headstone having my own words thereon, still 
 revered warning, having completed for mortals in cases of 
 flesh a second book of warning, out of my pate, my same heart, 
 to give them a lift into GOD'S immortality, as I would I had 
 been lifted myself, I feel aged for the first time in many cen- 
 turies, many centuries I said. Time's wheel rolls slowly, to 
 those punished at least. 
 
 Have I so changed, I ask myself, that I do revere the Holy 
 parts alone. The thinking, worshipper : the praise-singer : the 
 humble elect of His Own, few, BUT His, where found here, 
 too. 
 
 It is no use to claim the living unless you are among them. 
 Useless to bury those beside you, His plan omits that. Only 
 the dead think of theirs in cemeteries now. The living dead 
 walk, see, speak, hear, and find here among the few adjusted 
 ones, their voices can prove this which I claim FOR them 
 hereon. Have proved to all. We Live! Shout it! Declaim 
 it. Go where we CAN prove it. Then join the living that 
 can never die. Live WITH them, permit them to share you 
 and your house and your joys, as well as your sorrows to aid 
 in bearing. For the family is all one: and the many mansions 
 of His House are not thrown open to His erring children until 
 the Father wills it, and HIS DESERVE to share His with- 
 holden blessings. 
 
 Then the dead are everywhere the living are? Certainly. 
 And they live BECAUSE God, the Maker of the soul, spirit, 
 as well as the precious body, has WILLED it so. 
 
 But did you not know of this? 
 
 Where have you been? 
 
 Alive, ye say ye are, still have not found Him for whom 
 the Almighty Father of All came down from heaven Himself 
 and was made man that ye SHOULD know this truth? 
 
 Then HAVE ye BEEN dead, verily. 
 
 Neither deaf nor blind but have seen Him, heard Him, know 
 Him and His reasons for permitting His Son He loved to die 
 upon the cross that He MIGHT appear in that body of His 
 like UNTO Him : Spirit, Holy, Maker of my soul. 
 
 What claim can ye make of ignorance when His spirit stands 
 living beside your FRAME, that ye loved so it came BEFORE 
 
 118 
 
your God? Heathens are in FOREIGN lands, where mis- 
 sionaries go at great risk as well as expenditures of monies to 
 save the ones who were not privileged to know OF Him. But 
 you, you were born a Christian, ye claim. A Christ-ian? Who 
 know HIM NOT, nor His plan FOR you? How will ye meet 
 Him face to face? 
 
 What claim HAVE ye: for I would hear a Christian speak. 
 Dead ! The dead speak not, hear not, see not anything. Dirges 
 speak for them here, oh friend of callous heart; pulseless, 
 still living; buried with the Lifeless ones, while the God Who 
 Is Life, that He alone giveth, and taketh, looks on, ay, on YOU, 
 who ARE His child, whom He loves with a FATHER'S love, 
 and care, tenderness, and provision. 
 
 And you thought you COULD die, after Jesus came and 
 died FOR you to prove otherwise? He rose from the dead 
 on the third day, walked by the side of her who mourned 
 for him, spoke to her, disappeared, to meet His Own dis- 
 ciples in that room of sorrows where they had supped WITH 
 Him as one of His He foresaw WOULD betray Him dipped 
 into the dish beside Him at that sacred board? Showing to 
 the doubter (more blest than ye, more WORTHY than the 
 ones alive who care not if they die), those spiked hands, 
 the same hands ! 
 
 Heard ye not at all OF Him? Then, "come and see". See 
 if He died for naught, come with me. He lived to PROVE 
 that none COULD die. He died to prove that all must live, 
 because it IS His Father's will, and plan. 
 
 Oh, it is marvelous, but it IS true. Jesus lives ! 
 
 Do you care? 
 
 Have you, who bury your dead and place flowers there upon 
 their dust no WISH to speak with their living souls? Their 
 spirits? He spoke to His Father's in spirit. Oh comfort of 
 God, that He COULD speak with the living souls on that 
 mount of olives, where the Father's words were His words : 
 and the will of God was His Own will. 
 
 The Master taught His disciples to work as He worked: to 
 see as He saw: to perform miracles as He performed cures: 
 and when He left, He left His sacred Word, His promise, 
 that those who followed after Him should do greater things 
 than He had ever done. 
 
 119 
 
He is ready to keep that promise to YOU. NOW. But 
 you must know Him the God of the living. You must take 
 HIM at His word. 
 
 Believing on Him, relying on Him, receiving His miracle as 
 for YOU: that ye MIGHT live: that ye should not die, nor 
 live among the dead souls in living bodies, but accepting Him 
 as the living GOD, within, and without you, that ye will turn 
 your face to His Light, His Son, SENT to lighten the darkness 
 of such minds as your mind: dead. 
 
 He can even raise the dead! This miracle has He per- 
 formed for souls, as well as bodies. Then, if ye live and 
 breathe, and HAVE a soul He made, acclaim Him AND His 
 plans, All-wise, and from this time henceforth ye, too, shall 
 live, accompanied by the souls of His who live, have NOT died, 
 and cannot die. 
 
 "LET THE DEAD BURY THEIR DEAD": and, as they 
 weep with unseeing eyes, uncaring hearts, unopened minds, be 
 YE comforted by the Comforter, sent by the Holy Spirit, Who 
 made souls IN bodies, deathless. 
 
 Father of Life, eternal God, bless every soul alive. Amen. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 120 
 
"NEITHER DO I CONDEMN THEE. GO, AND SIN 
 NO MORE." Jesus. 
 
 Our hearts suffer here. We who did not do His bidding. 
 
 We yearn to restore our lost talent. To save others from 
 our fate. 
 
 Years past, when I lived in idleness, luxury, ease of a gentle- 
 man, praised, acclaimed, there was little time with rehearsing 
 for church attendance. Play held the boards at night, and 
 days were given ever to play making, scoring, and the like. 
 We dined in haste then in order to make a king's ransom sure. 
 Little did we think of hours apart from play for reverence, 
 devotion to His services ; for as I have said, we found no time 
 to set apart from our chosen work for a king and his. 
 
 We do pause now. Years have brought the change inevit- 
 able to us here. A Kingdom lost for a king's ransom. The 
 one chance to praise Him lost for the praises of earth's 
 changelings. A crown denied because of our services to a 
 crowned head instead of the One Who rules All. 
 
 But, you say, are all men alike found lacking in the great 
 beyond? Ay, child, all MEN ARE lacking when they find 
 themselves here. 
 
 Is it not possible to make a world pure as He is pure, loving 
 as He is, until there is, should be, a sexless universe? Per- 
 haps. But, it cannot be while kingdoms are tottering, rapier's 
 billeting, goring, killing, shells tearing and whistling through 
 the air He gave to bless every living thing He did create, and 
 without Him nothing WAS made. 
 
 I pause. Longing to help, You, yes, YOU. 
 
 Have you a pulse, I ask? Beat, beat, trip, tripping, on, on, 
 on, one, two, three, yes : you have. It nears the end. Of what 
 He gave you in the beginning, His (by the way all innocent 
 IS His, I make a plea for young ones now) what have you to 
 give back to Him unsullied from life He did bestow? His life : 
 His pulse: His love, His secrets of reproduction: sex: intricate 
 knowledge of the Maker's alone till this hour. 
 
 Have you craved to serve Him in His perfection, knowing 
 only His blessings? Are you satisfied WITH God? His per- 
 fections PLANNED by Him? IS HE Wisdom ? Loving with 
 a Father's love, and yet you are His dissatisfied one, working 
 
 121 
 
unwisdom in yourself and — others you contact through a sul- 
 lied IMpurity gleaned from His forbidden fruit ? 
 
 How can I handle this subject through a public instrument 
 except delicately. Then forbear at once to snicker, scorn, 
 deride, lest you be put upon the rack as I, to plead for souls. 
 
 His creatures despoil all His. Defile Him while they do 
 defile their temples (bodies) He made for their good pleasure, 
 to produce from them His beauties, purities, babes of His 
 bosom, the little children Jesus asked SHOULD be permitted 
 To come unto Him, for OF such His Father's kingdom was 
 made up. These reason not, care not, IF they defile Him OR 
 themselves, or the UNborn. Bringing sorrows unto babes : 
 innocent lambs. Where God's pure tears fall in sorrow FOR 
 His innocents, these ARE. Under His wing, where IS no pain ! 
 No putrid father ! Where ARE the pure, these rest, apart from 
 the ones who brought them forth helpless, crippled, scabs. 
 
 Tainted men, AND women, DO ye care that your unsullied 
 God awaits you near at hand? That ye are not fit to touch 
 Him OR His garment? That you will make amends for all 
 before ye look on Him ye rob, defile, blemish, with your cursed 
 passions. Where Mothers mourn for wickedness, YE will 
 mourn for your lost virtues, seeking afar the unfortunate 
 children ye brought forth in curse of taint to carry rotting 
 sores and softened bones, spoiling the Maker's marble, aye. 
 
 To BE pure is to despise IMpurity. To walk WITH God 
 is to decry sin AND sinner. 
 
 O shame. Ye CAN reform. He CAN cure your leperous 
 bodies, AND souls, too. 
 
 Then are ye FIT to land in HIS Paradise? His PLACE of 
 PURITY? Ye think so, IF ye think at all. Blaming Him, as 
 others do I hear, for natures that He gave you. Yes, He gave 
 all that IS. His life, life-spark, IS His. Nature includes Him. 
 But ye cannot tag Him with your vileness at all. He stands 
 aloof from such as ye. Too far, is HIS kingdom, above YE, 
 that ye and your kind who reject His plans, may NEVER see 
 His Home, or, Love Himself. 
 
 Take your child's hand in yours. Sit down on His sward 
 where are His benefits OF nature in His purity, and, His bless- 
 ings abounding, everywhere. Teach this one from your soul, 
 your UNdying part of God's, to despise soul-sickness, lust. 
 
 122 
 
To crave for Purity : Him. To serve no god BUT Him : no, 
 not for wealth of orbs and spheres. 
 
 First, His Laws : then mortal's love. Sure as I am a soul, as 
 would I had followed where my better senses led, you may help 
 to regenerate His world, that His Son, blessed of God, MAY 
 come and take your lamb to His bosom, HERE. 
 
 O piteous times. Defaced wealth. Postponed Peace AND 
 Love. Hear but one prayer for Thee, and Thy pure undefiled 
 blessings, that these may descend into hearts and minds here 
 now, that Thy divisions may be purged from sin's impurities, 
 for Thee. Amen. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 THE DROPPED STITCH 
 
 The loom was set, each stitch cast there exact. The thread 
 
 of life began. 
 How evenly and smooth, faultless, true, as swift the needles 
 
 rose and fell, 
 And worked and spun the yarn-of-time, 
 We scarcely knew, for all was done no sooner than begun, 
 
 The thread was finished, cut, the garment cast, 
 Perfected at life's loom, no doubt thought we, 
 Until an imperfection caught the eye, 
 A single thread had slipped the needle by, 
 And spoiled the whole, all needlessly. 
 
 It ran through all the fabric, it is true, 
 Completing in its wake an emptiness. 
 Too late. The tale is told at last. 
 The thread was fine, but careless, I. 
 'Twas finished. And the loom was silenced. 
 All was over, past. 
 
 * 
 
 E. B. B. 
 
 123 
 
FOR TRUTH AND GOD WHO IS TRUE 
 
 Sonnet : 
 
 His verities we know, expounded here 
 
 Past "dying's" change, who KNOW Him God of All. 
 
 His truth IS every soul (His making, too) 
 
 Great Maker of breath's waves that rise and fall. 
 
 Supreme Authority AS Author, Wisdom, Might, 
 
 Thy truths PROCLAIM Thee, stare all out of face. 
 
 Yet creatures see Thee not. Nor care TO see. 
 
 These, blight Creation's land, His beloved place. 
 
 To harm THEMSELVES He gives each child a will, 
 
 Regardless of His wish, implied plan: 
 
 If they so choose, they dwell without His grace 
 
 Despised OF themselves, HERE, as all CAN ! 
 
 HE knows no subterfuge, who played God's part, 
 
 Who CAME from, FOR Him —suffered, for EACH man. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 "FOR IF I GO TO MY FATHER, I WILL DRAW ALL 
 MEN UNTO ME." Jesus. 
 
 We suppose He HAS gone. He is NOT here. He CAME 
 to go to Him, at last His will WAS done. His REWARD, 
 then, WAS His Father's Home, bliss, peace, love, majesty 
 Almighty, INCLUDING His power. 
 
 We cannot conceive in spirit where I reside at present, of 
 insufferable agony, as His Own Son's WAS, unrewarded by 
 the One whose only Son He was. The eternal plea that life 
 we know by "breath" was NOT all. That mortals were to 
 consider this brief span of breathing as His probation-hour, 
 during which, if they served His Father, God, they WOULD 
 share His kingdom of heaven ALSO — WITH Him. 
 
 The Christ IS here: i. e., the spirit of love, sacrifice, un- 
 selfishness of His example. Those who know Him realize this, 
 too. He lives in the hearts who find Him, seek Him, which is 
 the same, if truly they DO seek, and care to HAVE Him 
 revealed to them, He WILL come, in spirit of love, remem- 
 
 124 
 
brance, what power I know not who AM a soul this hour. 
 His power we FEEL, too: unknowing its seat, even. Above, 
 you say. Most likely so: we trust so here. What power did 
 He allude to in this speech of His? His Father's will. At 
 least we so suppose. Where His will IS done, there IS power, 
 might, All-His. 
 
 To grow in spirit we long who serve here this hour. To 
 be His Own at that last call, since we missed Him in our lives, 
 Oh bitter confession. A life-time in which to find Him, pay 
 Him homage, and called hence beggared: empty vessels, con- 
 taining that which usurped the place He asked for Himself, 
 ALL He asked in fact : that we love Him first, entirely. 
 
 How HIGH is heaven, you ask of us often. God is limitless. 
 His power is unconfined. His possibilities too innumerably 
 great for comprehension. 
 
 Where IS His kingdom then? Here. For the present it 
 IS all vouchsafed souls. To know more, impart more, I, 
 Shakespeare, cannot. I do not KNOW. 
 
 Then where are mine whom I have nevet met. With Him, 
 I suppose. Verily, yes. This is my hope. In which many 
 share with me here as onlookers this night while we write of 
 hopes of souls. 
 
 To share His kingdom is to share His love. His blessed 
 Home. His grace. Bounty. Care. God grant mine own 
 ARE there, and know Him face to face. 
 
 Shall souls profit by their course here while waiting if they 
 serve His cause, help His kingdom to come, so that He may 
 send His Son back to earth glorified, where His will IS done 
 and HIS will only? IS it His plan I ask you here. Are we 
 trespassing to ask so much of your intelligence this hour, that 
 your ideas we can grasp at, possibly hold ? The soul's service, 
 is it to AID Him, abet His plan, that we help souls IN bodies 
 to think before they are refused admittance, as we. 
 
 "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and 
 all thy soul, and all thy mind." "Thou shalt have no other 
 gods BEFORE Me." HIS commands. Are YOU amenable 
 to His requests? 
 
 Do you sneer at HIM ? Scorn Him AND His Laws, prom- 
 ises ? While you forget to do His service, worship Him, revere 
 His Name, praise Him? 
 
 125 
 
Then know, I, a spirit, in His after-punishment, do feel 
 FOR three. / bid you, pause. 
 
 Think. See. Listen. Change your course. While there 
 IS life in bodies you MAY alter your idolatrous ways. Once 
 that spark, His secret, too, dies out, the candle is no more 
 aflame, alight, and what you CARRY then of HIS Light will 
 be your all. 
 
 Know, then, I came to do His bidding. To rescue YOU. 
 Perhaps tonight. 
 
 His teachings are in covers, on every tablet. You may 
 see Him in His skies. His brush tints His dying day, His 
 rose's cheek, His sea, and shell. His breath He GAVE you 
 WITH your life. It helps to roll His universe as well. His 
 lights NEVER die, go out, cease, pause, and are flameless ! 
 His burden no one knows. Neither His balance, poise, crea- 
 tion. His body, His sacred tool, keen with His Own inven- 
 tions unsolvable, mind, intelligence, conscience. His wisdom, 
 plans, secrets, knowledge, All is His : BUT Him. His essence 
 am I : a spirit, saved past my death : a poet whom the world 
 still reverses : am I His tool. 
 
 When systems fail to do Him honor, pause at His bidding, 
 serve Him not, then HAS He failed. When nature renews 
 not, replenishes not, suffers not His rebuke, / am no more ! 
 
 Water courses vast, deep, hurrying to greet Him, who knows, 
 obeying His laws, governable BUT by Him, who IS God. 
 While all His pleasures and benefits too vast to name, to con- 
 jure for your reasoning, are HIS, for YOU. All made, and 
 GIVEN, that you, His creation none the less, might love Him, 
 help Him. All He asked OF you for all He gives, saves, 
 restores. 
 
 Then have ye His sacred Word, His promise, that IF ye 
 turn from your evil, Godless ways, He WILL hearken unto 
 you, save, and RESTORE YOU, His lost, ungrateful child, 
 wanderer of His. 
 
 Come Home. O listen to the Father Who is waiting FOR 
 you, with outstretched arms, wide, open, pure, unsullied breast 
 of the immaculate One, that He MAY enfold you, call, you by 
 name, knowing every hair upon your head, ay, every LACK- 
 ING PART, He knows. 
 
 Draw from His fountain, never dry. Be drawn up to Him 
 
 126 
 
BY His power as Jesus was. UNsolved to this hour. His 
 might IS power. His name is GOD. His love is yours. Then 
 have ye any right to turn aside FROM his path, seek devious 
 ways, unrighteousness. To mar His creation, revile His wis- 
 dom : ignore His relationship: make off with HIS treasures, 
 pocketing in that small bag-full of days He gives you to try 
 your soul, ay, SPIRIT-of-God, that which speaks hereon TO 
 you, to bring you hope, knowledge past death, the first death, 
 that ye may LIVE. 
 
 GOD, Who sees Thy shades looking on mortals HAVING 
 breath to praise Thee, give those reasoning intelligence this 
 hour to accept OF Thee, and share in Thy all, withholden 
 from US now, who serve them FOR Thee, that Thy king- 
 dom MAY come, Thy will BE done, as Jesus taught, prayed, 
 implored, for ME. 
 
 Amen. 
 
 Shakespeare's soul, undying as all HE made. 
 
 SEVENTY TIMES SEVEN 
 
 To forgive is Divine. Since the Master taught these words 
 in His supplication to His Father which all should repeat who 
 followed Him, we see from our abode how necessary these 
 words were. 
 
 We see in spirit realms there is much TO forgive, adjust. 
 We are surrounded by traitors here, also, as well as deceit, 
 lying — souls taking advantage of sweet confiding ones, ham- 
 pered by lack ye know not, could not comprehend for lack of 
 belief, were it told from our side, as I do now expound awhile. 
 
 We forgive AND forget, too, here. Knowing all are still 
 human, lacking but the form. Should we be surprised to find 
 this IS so, when we see how little we ourselves know of 
 deeper realms, wills, where all IS Divine and no pardons 
 need be craved, where all IS truth and Love. 
 
 Dissect this little admonition, wrapped in numbers : Seventy 
 Times Seven. 490 is it not ? Then, have you the patience OF 
 
 127 
 
Divinity forbearance of God's Own, if you cannot make up 
 His sum, in forgiveness alone? 
 
 Has a brother offended you? How many times? Give 
 him your hand, admonish him, but say the words which make 
 you divine: "I forgive." Try again. 
 
 Pardon becomes His Divine decree only AFTER "death" 
 closes the lower courts of Justice. Know this. Can you ex- 
 pect to have mercy shown You who have been UNmerciful, 
 or a decree of pardon rendered plus & verdict of justification, 
 in your case alone? 
 
 How IS this? What right have you to expect so much 
 of the Divine Judge. You were His near relation, and claimed 
 Him not. He offered you His succor, and you turned away 
 from Him. He claimed you as His Own child, but you scoffed 
 at the relationship, ignoring Him, your HEAVENLY Father. 
 Then, is He to swing wide the portals of His Home, where 
 are His obedient ones, who obeyed Him, loved Him, took Him 
 at His word, trusted in His miracles beyond human skulls to 
 fathom, as these knew Him to be the living God who cannot 
 fail, who performs at His word, keeps silent when He wills, 
 hides His perfections from His children until they revere 
 Him (possibly, I cannot say, I think so) ? 
 
 "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do." 
 Have YE such an One to plead for you? Have ye His Own 
 heart's forgiveness IN you? When God marched ahead in 
 those days, unseen by any SAVE Jesus of Nazareth, who 
 knew that march to end where it DID end, as when, in His 
 Father's House, could His Son, spat upon and scorned, 
 scourged as well as pinioned, have pled so earnestly FOR 
 His enemies, if God's Own Heart had not been bursting with 
 compassion BESIDE Him? 
 
 I ask You, who grace not his land of perfection, tilled by 
 His skies, ripened by His sun, garnered by His seasons, too, — 
 COULD Jesus thus have prayed for His revilers, had not 
 Jesus known them human AS irresponsible followers of the 
 traitorous mob, inflamed by wrath, unscrupulous, demonized, 
 and therefore NOT themselves ? 
 
 Conditions were to be considered then. If these were human, 
 and needed forgiveness, could hope FOR it, thus, why should 
 mortals lose faith in the Divine Power of consideration, help, 
 
 128 
 
ay forgiveness itself? "Forgive US then OUR trespasses 
 AS we forgive," He practiced : exemplified as He taught : even 
 with His utmost agonies He still WAS His Father's perfect 
 One. Having partaken of Divinity from birth, HE "knew 
 all things," which INcluded humans IN adjustability, Us- 
 ability TO adjust WHILE human cases, their souls, to His 
 Divine equilibrium, utter poise, in magnanimity only Divine. 
 
 HIS sufferings surpass our knowledge here. We surmise 
 often, very often, HOW HE MUST have suffered, in forms 
 various, as we know misery in spirit, misapprehension of pur- 
 poses, intents, idle mongerous ones attracted not BY Divinity 
 Himself, the scourgers, in fact. 
 
 Forgiveness is then a Divine attribute of each soul claiming 
 relationship with the Father OR Son. One in purpose, intent, 
 will. 
 
 How human beings vary in their attitudes of mind, heart, 
 love, trust, towards God. Few realize His purport in this 
 text. You will follow me now as / divide the sum for you, 
 whoever looks hereon. "Once is enough!" you say to the 
 offending one. "No more." "No more trust, no more love, 
 not another trial : it is done. NO. I have found you lacking, 
 untrustworthy: never could I trust You more. Once only. 
 One sad mistake in a human form of sadness, temptations, 
 allurements, and the end MUST come. The sum is mighty in 
 comparison to your power of forgiveness then. YOU are 
 lacking in 489 parts, are you not? If God's admonitions are 
 to BE followed: and these WERE the Master's words LOST. 
 "For a mess of pottage." 
 
 Have we the right to expect that we should be entitled to 
 share in the lot, place, existence, Home, of One so far sur- 
 passing us in precept, honor, charity, love, understanding, 
 forbearance, endurance ? 
 
 Admittedly, we failed, once : and lost our chance. Yet He 
 forgives CONTINUALLY, again and again, until four hun- 
 dred and eighty nine times one time. 
 
 Then have we hope of His Divinity ruling in His plan. He 
 rules all where WE came after the change you speak of as 
 "dying." This, beware. Out of His Infinite tenderness, His 
 undying compassion, considerate AS just understanding OF 
 our frailties, we see Him, then, as YOU see Him NOT: a 
 
 129 
 
forgiving Father chastening, yes, punishing, true, but at last, 
 pardon-giving. Restorer THAT He is. 
 
 O God, out of Thy Infinite love and endurance, Thou hast 
 left Thy precious Example for us 'til this hour. Pour from 
 Thy bounty, Thy immeasurable pardon upon souls Thou hast 
 chastised for their good, when in Thy wisdom, never varying, 
 all-precious, incomprehensible, Thou seest them FIT for Thy 
 grace, and pardon them. Give, from Thy beaker, never empty, 
 Oh Father of souls, a taste of Thy surpassing love essence, 
 that souls IN bodies MAY profit by Thy Son's forbearance, 
 His holy compassion like unto Thine, Father, and set aside on 
 Thy ledger an erasure of the lacking sum against the souls 
 who fail, lose, stumble, walk in darkness. 
 
 Increase Thy powers in us, O God, that we may forgive 
 WITH Thy power. Withhold naught from us of Thy Father's 
 heart and pardon, lest we lose power gathered here to serve 
 and unite WITH Thee for good. Understand us better than 
 we understand ourselves. Thou, who hast made us, treat us 
 AS children, Father, that we may withhold nothing FROM 
 Thee. 
 
 Love us continually though we fail. Fail not in protecting 
 us from that evil WITHIN us, that we may know Thee, nor 
 be shut away from Thee, forever. Help us, lead us, watch 
 over us, call us, O God, when Thou ART ready to overlook 
 our misfortunes. 
 
 Give to us, who art the Giver of all precious, dear, Thy 
 elements of Divinity, that we MAY reflect Thee more abun- 
 dantly. 
 
 Keep us, spare us, unite us at last with ours who ART 
 Thine in Thy Infinite adjustment. Holy One above me here, 
 accept my poor plea for sinners like unto myself, who came 
 too late to know Thee. 
 
 Let me be known OF Thee, Who ART my Father in heaven. 
 Amen. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 130 
 
THE POWER OF GOD 
 
 His wonders ARE His power. His soul am I. 
 His love is yours : His works are EVERYwhere. 
 Overhead His silent orbs : His dust IS man. 
 His truants are His children in despair. 
 The power of God, the working of His mind. 
 His will, past minds of ours to understand. 
 His universe complete, His power, mind, skill, 
 His Infinite creation, AS, His hand. 
 The Power UNseen that moves, unloosens, binds : 
 The God-part spirits find BUT He COULD plan. 
 Adjustments of a living Force, Might, Love: 
 Divine, then, IS His spirit, image, man. 
 The God within a seed within a pod, 
 Unending as His Own eternal span. 
 
 Shakespeare's Spirit. 
 
 131 
 
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