Fast Facts—The Spirit Home

The Spirit Home is like Mount Zion, beautiful for situation, though not at the top of the mountain by any means. 

All things external answer to one's state, and beautify the dwelling here. 

Oh! if those still on earth knew what homes await them, and how every pure thought, word, and deed, every victory over self and its evils are perpetuated here, how could each soul purify itself, and make ready to arise and go to the Father's house of many mansions.

In Letters from a Spirit, the Spirit Author gives us this description of her Spirit Home—

Far below is a valley smooth and green as emerald velvet, and enamelled with flowers of rare and fadeless loveliness, and with a clear pure river of living water, in great loops and curves of silver, reflecting the deep purplish blue of the sky. 

Great clumps of trees are in every direction, some massive like oaks, some slender and drooping like elms, some with tiny flower bells of various colour, at the tips of the pensile branches, some erect, and others stirring continually as if a breeze rustled through them, but all wonderful, perfect. 

There are vines looping about many of the trees, laden with fruit like grapes, that is, growing in clusters. Some deep purple veined with pearl, some ruby red with silver veins, others like pearls in a network of gold, some like those on earth, others unknown, excepting in the Kingdom. 

From this vale of peace and abundance, there is an uphill road to the plateau where our dwelling stands. It is a very gentle slope though leading to an elevation. The house is beautiful as one comes up from the valley. It stands on a knoll like an emerald wave, and it is pure white like marble. Nearly square, with a long portico across the front, supported by pillars of the same white stone. In the middle of the portico is a semi-circular projection also surrounded by pillars, and with a double stairway, one flight from either side leading into it. It is a noble and simple approach, and very symbolic of the life of noble simplicity, which modelled it for a resting place for his own.

There is an arched portal leading from the portico into a circular hall and on each side of the open archway commences a flight of stairs which follow the sweep of the hall until they reach a gallery which runs around the whole interior, and from which the doors of the chambers open.

Above is a dome, it looks like a clear bubble of glass. It is singular until one becomes familiar with the truth that changes of state express themselves in one's surroundings, to note the different hues of the lights which pour through it. Sometimes the blue of the vault above fills the hall like liquid azure. Sometimes the softest rose-light, again it is clear emerald green, and loveliest of all the rich golden glow which transfigures us all into angelic beauty. At night, a dim transparent whiteness like moonlight floods the house, sufficient for all purposes of sight, and a very boon of rest and peace.

From the central hall, there open below great rooms of fine proportion. The hall is the heart of the house, the place of reception for guests. All our holidays are kept there. It is a perfect place to decorate, and we make it lovely on all occasions of ceremony with many devices. You will recall the roses that were in masses on my birthday.

On the left of the entrance is a room corresponding to a library, full of books, maps, and whatever can help one to learn.

On the right is the dining room, with every article of use of exquisite form and material, and between the two at the back of the building, a noble apartment arched and lofty, with pictures, statues, and all sorts of wonderful and beautiful things.

There is a fountain in the middle playing delicious perfumed spray, and always falling in likeness of birds and flowers.

The hue of the water is always the same as that of the light coming through the dome in the hall. Sometimes it is like flame, then of rosy diamonds and oftentimes like streams of gold.

That is all of the lower floor. All the doorways are arched, and wide, and have beautiful hangings.

The windows are very lofty, and all of stories told in colours. Our Father [the Spirit Author's Father] created those himself. They are a perfect record of his loving benevolent life. His left hand was not suffered to know what his right hand was doing, but he found it all here in unfading hues.

The stairs have balustrades, with carving that looks like lace, of the same material of the house, indeed, it is all of the same white stone—if it is stone—within, and without.

Above are the chambers of which there are six.

They are nearly square, though in each is an alcove—formed by the circle of the hall—in which the couch stands. 

One room is always Father's for he will remain here portions of the time until all of his flock is gathered in.

One is the nursery, also grandmama's room, for she took all the babies as she did on earth.

When a little one was to come, a crown of blossoms would form in the air and a bed underneath it, and from the wreath a veil of light that covered the couch, enclosing it like a curtain. Always of a colour, and form and flowers according to the character of the newcomer.

The other chambers have been the resting places for a space of those who have now passed on to their own places, in the different societies, though they are continually returning for short terms to the first home, which will be precious to them for ages to come.

But first and best of all is the guest chamber, all rose-colour and beautiful as it can be. An arched window faces the East and whenever a friend is entered in, a flood of rosy light fills the room.

It is too wonderful, too indescribably beautiful, sometimes unbearably so, to realise how all things external answer to one's state, and beautify the dwelling here. Beyond the windows of every room is a balcony carved like marble lace, and we get lovely outlooks from these airy perches.

Back of the house is a hillside smooth and green, but always there are clumps of trees, and vines and flowers, and occasionally a spray of waterfall, to make music as it flows away to join the river below.

The rise continues like a rich and beautiful hill country on earth, with valleys like dimples, in each of which a house nestles.

Irregular in detail, but always following the upward sweep and away, far away, in the horizon, the hills merge into mountains, to which all earthly mountains are shadows and nothingness. So lofty, so pure, so far, and the glory covers them like intense snowy light. There the holiest and most internal of the Heavenly societies have their nurseries, so to speak. Before the dwellers here are received into the societies to which they belong, they reside for a season in the mountain retreat which corresponds to their own society.

Sometimes as we sit and watch them the glittering veil will partly withdraw, and such gleams of glory flash through as no sight can endure.

Rose, and gold, azure, and emerald, in perfect arches of vivid light, with wondrous hues unknown to mortal eyes.

Then we know there are rejoicings in that place, for these are the outward signs of the Internal glory. Always too, such strains of surpassing melody come down to us, that even our home lovely as it is seems but a halting-place to that which lies beyond. For it doth not yet appear what we shall be.

I have told nothing, a faint shadow of the truth only, for how can I express what is inexpressible?

No loving act, or self-denying word, or deed, is here crystallised into form, that is, spiritual results from earthly deeds. In many cases, all earthly experiences are forming the person's spiritual habitation, and while in the flesh creates their future home. It is a revelation to us of the identity of earthly and spiritual existence. They are one in a far more intimate sense than we realise. It is the loveliest of all things that we on earth, hampered and heartsick, tempted and struggling, can adorn our Father's house with our victories over evil. The defeats, the failures do not appear here. Evil is temporary and does not enter into eternal habitations. If it appeared here, it would be as a shadow, and spirits have no place for shadows or stains. 

For example, in her description of her Spirit Home, the Spirit [Unknown] states that there is a wreath of snowy-white sculptured flowers around the room close beneath the ceiling of every kind of lovely bloom. That was formed leaf by leaf, or rather atom by atom, by the soft answer, when there was need of an effort to return it, to cold, or cruel words. Each one means a victory gained over a biting tongue.

A statue of charity relieving a poor child was formed by a long course of self-denial to relieve another's need.

Again, is a picture of an angelic form, raising, and healing a bruised, crushed creature. That was formed by patient effort through weary years to bring an erring one back to the righteous way.