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Tuesday, 8 April 2014

It is the acme of hope entering the spirit

It is the acme of hope entering the spirit, Clifford dictates in his letters to his mother:

Beams of sparkling light scintillating through tremendous planes of space, trembling in tender thoughts of love, touching the spirits softly like a magic wand, startling none, just causing an electrical thrill of joy to spur all on to greater efforts of great victory in all things spiritual. It is the acme of hope entering the spirit. It is a flight of happy thoughts winging upward, always upward, until the highest fount of love is attained. It will take us many, what you call ages, to reach the Universe of God's Universal Home (highest one), but the way is so beautiful we are never weary, never striving to rush ahead to be first in line. All are happy in their place, as they know they are in just the order God wishes them to be.

They sing as they journey upward, oh, so beautifully! If I could but give you an idea of the sounds! They are to me almost beyond belief, only, of course, as I hear at all times this anthem of joy and this tender form of worship to the All Highest and Greatest God of all good works, I am compelled to believe that it is beautifully true. The little childish, birdlike voices blend among the greater ones like tender tinkling chords in harmony with the grand and deeper tones of the larger Spirits, until the whole seems to flood the entire heavens with its magnificence. Praise, praise to Him, our Father of Goodness.

The Book of Clifford (The Soul of My Son Speaketh to Me) from the original dictation as transcribed without alterations by Lillian Bernicie, Cornhill Publishing Company, Boston, New York, 1922