What is the promise to the soul?

Lay down your burdens, weary one, for here is perfect rest.

Beyond the boundaries of the earth is a glorious land—

A land of eternal summer where the fragrance of flowers floats softly in the air. 

This beautiful land is the home of those who have left the house of clay to take up their residence through all eternity in a life of sweetest harmony and most perfect peace.

In this glorious Summerland are the many mansions eternal in the Heavens—not built by hands to crumble and decay, but created to endure through all time. 

Strains of rapturous music float soft and free over the fair green hills of this beautiful land.

A beautiful gateway guards the entrance to Paradise that offers a wonderful promise to many whose spiritual eyes have been opened for the first time. 

It seems to speak of the promise to the soul—

The little children who have blossomed on earth to bloom above. 

It is the place of those who have laid aside the weaknesses of the physical body.

Paradise is the heaven that awaits God’s fair blossoms.

What glorious realities are to be found in that Paradise of the Blessed—such scenes as have never been imagined by the material mind—grand old trees bending down with different varieties of fruit and a perfect mass of pink and white bloom—flower gardens whose equal has never been seen before. 

Not all the glorious wealth of floral beauty and vegetation of the tropics can be compared to that in Summerland.

The beautiful colours that play softly on the creations of Heaven add an indescribable beauty to the scene.

There are rivers, lakes and mountains in the eternal land, but they are as clear as crystal, and an inhabitant of that plane may walk through its waters and come out strengthened and highly spiritualised. 

Small craft built of iridescent shells, and festooned with lovely flowers, glide dreamily over the surface of the water—the banks on all sides being brilliant with tinted sand of various colours.

One may see angelic beings in white robes with loosely flowing hair gliding softly over the surface of the ground or floating leisurely through the air—some conversing with one another, others lifting their voice in song—some beautiful angelic beings bearing, in their arms, tiny babies who have been carried from the earth-plane to this glorious land of mighty love and eternal peace.

If the mothers of such little ones could only see, how differently they would feel.

Homes in the eternal land are not of a sameness, although all are lovely. 

There are small homes completely overgrown with flowering vines, and those who dwell within are there because they like such a home. 

They feel more content than they would in a fine mansion or gorgeous palace. 

There are co-operative homes where hundreds of people live together in the most perfect harmony without the drudgery of material work—all things being run on the most approved plan—no cooking, no sweeping, no sewing, or housework of any kind, for the spiritual body needs nothing of this kind.

There are homes devoted entirely to young people where a literary, social and musical life may be enjoyed by those living in such a home. 

There are palaces and mansions for those who desire them. 

There are colleges of science where students work out problems and experiments. 

Those interested in this line find their homes in such colleges since the spiritual body never sleeps or becomes weary from its work.

There are the mighty temples of art and music—the lecture halls, the beautiful homes for the children, and the palaces of the great writers and artists where receptions are held daily and where one may meet with noted people, such as the great men and women of the eternal world at work with the creations of their souls.

Naturally, when reception is held at the home of Beecher, Longfellow, or any other gifted angel, the conversation drifts to the latest work of some great artist, poet, musician or inventor. 

Many things are discussed that the inhabitants of the material plane are not ready for yet, but will be someday when man has learned to develop his latent faculties. 

To those who are interested in such things, instructive lectures are being given continually that furnish food for the soul desiring unfoldment. 

The works of art in the higher world are all on pure and lofty subjects.

Frequently, there are meetings where there is no lecturer present—he being somewhere in one of the spheres, and sending his thoughts to the listeners who are gathered together, and who are enabled to hear his every word. 

In many of the gatherings, scenes that are transpiring in the different spheres are sent and transferred by means of vision that all may see through the power of the subconscious mind.