The Seven Purposes by Margaret Cameron 1867 - 1947




THE next day, that grandfather for whom Mr. Wylie had asked came briefly, discussing purpose, like the rest.


"I didn't half understand my own impulses there," he said, "but I know now that the best thing a man can do for other men—and for himself, too—is to give them a chance to develop whatever is in them. Sometimes it isn't much, from the point of view of the intelligent man, but the fact remains that it is force, and the more quickly it is developed the more quickly the sum of the whole will be raised."


He closed more personal assurances by saying: "There may be no way to put it into words, but you may be sure I am watching, and helping, and being helped, too, by your reaching toward our common purpose."


When Frederick had taken over the pencil again, Mrs. Gaylord spoke of the long message to his father the night before, to which he replied: "It was only a beginning. This thing





we have to tell you can't be given, nor yet accepted, in a day or a month. That letter last night was a sort of foreword, just to get us all started even. The proof of the pudding is coming later."


Some more or less personal discussion followed, during which Mr. Gaylord asked whether certain arrangements he contemplated making were wise.


Frederick replied that they were, as far as he could see, adding: "This is hardly a time for making permanent arrangements, for while the end of the war is certain, the economic conditions with you, following the war, are impossible now to foresee. We have no way of knowing how that struggle between labor and capital, power of foundation and power of development, will end. That is one of the reasons we are so eager to get all forces for true progress united now. There are thousands of laboring men misled. Get them in for our work. There are hundreds of employers ignorant or indifferent. Turn them out."


Mr. Gaylord, who had not at that time read the Lessons carefully, interpreted this as championship of the cause of labor as opposed to capital. Some one else suggested that every one, employer or laborer, who was not for united progress, should be "turned out."





"Sure," Frederick answered. "Turn out the unions, as they work now. Get in unity, regardless of class."


When Mrs. Gaylord inquired about a member of her own family, he replied: "He has gone on, and I haven't seen him. To some of us here there comes a lessening of interest in your life, and an intensified feeling of the importance of work beyond your plane. He has this interest, I hear, and very rarely comes back now. There is a lot I want to tell you some time about the differences and conditions of the many planes, but I can't do it now. The first work of those of us who have still close ties there is to give you all we can of the possibilities and meaning of the life you Eve. Some day I'll tell you what I can of the life ahead, which as yet I only aspire to."


"I suppose there's no use asking whether you inhabit space, or planes, or stars?" Lois inquired.


"There are things that I can tell you later about those matters of plane and future progress," he said, "but there is so much that is more imperative now that I am told not to tell more, at present, than the immediate needs of your life require."


"Do you feel any depression, when you realize the immensity of the universe and the



THE SEVEN PURPOSES smallness of each individual?" was the next question.


"That's a thing you've got to learn. There is no force that is not true force, and no atom so small that its weight doesn't count. If one atom is for destruction, that means two atoms lost to construction, the one that is against us and the one that balances it here, without any forward movement."


"Have you seen my father?" Mr. Gaylord asked.


"No. He is a healer now, and has come back from the plane beyond to help the newly arrived find their balance. I have tried to get in touch with him, but he is busy and I haven't yet met him, but still hope to. Few come back for any work here, and their greater knowledge makes them very much in demand, just as a great surgeon is with you in times like these."


Again the talk turned into more personal channels, and Mr. Gaylord asked a specific question, affecting future arrangements.


"… Your choice will be influenced, probably, by many considerations, as choice must always be in your life…. I can influence you in ways I can't define in words, but I can't properly tell you how to choose—as you know better than I. You taught me that, and it's true.





Every fellow on his own feet…. Not that I'm not eager to help, sir. You understand that, don't you? But the way I can help most is by a close and constant association and suggestion, that still stops short of definite expression of choice for you. That is your privilege. Mine is to help you see the way more clearly."


"Do you know what we are thinking, at all times?"


"Not always. We read most of the thought of the sympathetic forces, and some of everybody's. I can't always answer the thought I read, though I can sometimes. But Margaret keeps up such a stiff guard, I can't always get over a thing she doesn't know is asked."


I said I was sorry for that, and did not understand it, as I thought I had lowered all guards as far as he was concerned.


"You can't understand all the barricades—and the limitations, too—of consciousness. Sometimes I sneak one through on you, but you are from Missouri, all right! You want to see the works before you admit the applicant."


After dinner, we talked a little about the publication of these communications, and of the extent to which personal messages should be quoted.


As soon as we gave him opportunity, Fred





crick said: "You people can't guess what it means to hear you talking about me, in the old, happy way. I've missed myself terribly, you know…. You've been talking about the book. If you'll permit a suggestion from me, the plan of copious quotation from all the interviews that have bearing on the big message, as well as some characteristic extracts from the more personal messages, under initials frankly substituted for real ones, is to my notion the way to do it…. A good deal of what we have been allowed to say was because this message was given through Margaret, and the rest of us have told things that illumine and carry on the message for the world. We have all wanted you of our own to know these things, but the channels through which this has come to her have been chosen for her fuller conviction, and to enable her to deliver this with greater force."


In this connection, it is interesting to note that in every instance when messages of importance have come, it has been during intercourse primarily requested by those gone before, who have asked me to send for the person here through whose co-operation the freest communication could be established—Frederick writing more fluently to some member of his family than to me alone, Mary Kendal to





Mansfield, David Bruce to his wife, and so on. Conversely, interviews arranged at the instigation of persons on our own plane have been generally without satisfactory result.


"We who can tell it clearly, and whom she can absolutely identify," Frederick went on, "have had extraordinary fluency, and almost unlimited authority to speak. We have spoken to our own, and through them to all who will listen. Keep the personal part of all we have said as sacredly to yourselves as you like, but my own desire is that the parts of my messages that will carry conviction or comfort to people suffering in ignorance of all this may be given to them through you—as your faith and conviction will lead you to do, I know—not in your name or mine, but in the spirit of light, healing, and progress we all serve."


When this was construed as an intimation that he did not want his name used, he returned: "I have no slightest objection. I have only a feeling that this personal revelation belongs to you. Use it as you choose. I do not ask anything, except that you share its essence with those who suffer as you have suffered. Give them what will relieve them, and do it as you think best."


At this point, the question of publication was dropped, though he returned to it the



dear, this is Mother."




next day. A short pause followed. Then the touch on the pencil changed, Frederick's bolder writing being succeeded by a smoother, more flowing, and exceedingly rapid script, in a message to Mr. Gaylord from his mother,—for whose early death he had never ceased to grieve.

"Frederick told me I could reach you at last. I have had always the greatest desire to touch you, to tell you that your mother could not leave you, could not cease to love you, could not leave off watching over you, hoping for you, guarding your highest hopes and ideals. To have known the darkness that fell upon you, and to be unable to lighten it, or to soothe your anguish, made me as sad as one can be in this fine and everlastingly expanding life. I knew that you must some day come back to me, and into full knowledge of all that eternal life means, so I could bear it.


"You have been always a joy and a source of great happiness to me, in your splendid adherence to the things we know now to be the first and fundamental principles of life. We did not know, when I was with you, all the wonders and beauties of the eternal life we talked about. We thought heaven was quite different from this. But it is heaven,





in a much higher and finer way than anything we dreamed of then, and to be able to come back to you now—to my boy, through his boy—and tell you all this, is almost as wonderful and blessed to me as it is to you.


"I have gone on to a life and a work I cannot easily explain to you now. I have lost touch with the material things of your life. But you, your purpose, your achievement of force, the love you have never ceased to give me, the love with which you bless and are blessed by your family—all these things I know, dear, and have always known.


"For so long, I tried to tell you not to grieve. We have been so close together, in the ways that are real and infinite. Never grieve again, dear son, for any loved one coming to this happy life. We do not leave you. We do not part in any way, except the way of flesh. We are happy, but can be so much happier if you know us with you and of you, and if you can come to us in confidence and love and conviction of our life, as we never cease to go to you.


"Your father wanted me to tell you this is from him as well as from me. He is doing a great work and cannot come to you now, but he knew that I should soon come to say this, and he wants you to know that he, too, is





happier in your growing knowledge of our unceasing life, and unceasing love, and unceasing upward growth.


"Your family are all dear to us as part of you, and therefore part of us. It is a light increasing the light in which we dwell, to be at last in this close communion with you. I will come again some time—many times—and I want you always to think of me as loving you, keeping watch over you, and living in you and yours.


"Frederick is splendid. You know that. Please be as sure that I am—and your father, too—always so full of happiness in the thought and knowledge of you and your love.


Your loving



PART - 9