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Think on These Things

Phil. 4:8



Think
on These Things




"As we have borne the image of
the earthy, we shall also bear the
image of the heavenly. "

I Cor. 15,49.

"We all, with open face, behold-
ing as in a glass the glory of the
Lord, are changed into the same
image from glory to glory, even
as by the spirit of the Lord."

II Cor. 3.18



1921

STAR-NEWS PUBLISHING COMPANY
PASADENA, CALIFORNIA



COPYRIGHT, 1921
BY HARRIET L. GREEN



GIFT



THINK ON THESE THINGS

This book is made up chiefly of communications from the
invisible realms of life; and by that phrase I mean not
some strange and distant sphere, but a world that lies all
about us, interpenetrating and intermingling with our com-
mon, every-day life, though ordinarily we are unconscious
of its existence.

In one way and another it befalls, from time to time,
that a man or a woman is aware of something like the
quickening of a new sense; when that which has hitherto
been invisible, intangible, inaudible, enters the waking con-
sciousness and makes itself known as real, vital, and of
supreme importance. So it comes about that there are some
of us for whom it is no longer possible to think of that
"other world" as wholly separate from our present selves;
no longer possible to think of Death as a blank, impene-
trable curtain that shuts us off from all knowledge of those
who once gave significance and purpose to our lives.

In my own case it was not until I went down to face the
very blackness of Death, when it seemed that my eyes could
never weep again or my ears hearken to any song of Life,
that the Spirit touched me, the inner sense awoke, and I
received the assurance of things pure, lovely, and of good
report.

Perhaps it is not possible to impart this assurance to
others who have not had such direct experience, but as we
can darken one another's lives by the shadow of our doubts,
fears, and unbelief, so surely we may hope to share in some
measure the light that comes from Love revealed beyond
the confines of our day and night.



461256



2 THINK ON THESE THINGS

The messages herein recorded were received by me
through so-called automatic writing. That is, they were
written by a pencil held in my hand, but the process of
writing and the words written were as detached from my
volition as the clicking of a telegraphic instrument that
brings a message from another continent.

It is not my purpose here to offer a treatise on psychical
research or to enter upon a discussion of the scientific
evidence for survival. A detailed account of the mystic
experience crowded into one year of my life would fill a
large volume. The more striking evidences of identity,
amounting in my mind to indisputable proof, which were
furnished me at an early stage in the communications have
been laid before the American Society for Psychical Re-
search and are now in their hands for publication in the
Journal of the Society.

By the word of many witnesses Truth is established. A
multitude, past and present, have testified to the reality of
life after death and to the possibility of communication
between the realms visible and invisible. It is my belief
that much can be learned by giving more careful attention
to the content of the messages received.

I can do no more now than publish a few fragments of
all that came to me. As for their genuineness as communi-
cations received in the manner I shall describe and for
the truth of such statements as I shall make in regard to
them I can only say that I, who write these words, believe
in the immortality of the Spirit, I believe that the messages
came, as purported, from my Beloved, and with all that I
know and hope for of love, human and divine, at stake, I
shall not bear false witness.



THINK ON THESE THINGS 3

The earliest message in writing came to me about fifteen
months after the sudden death of my husband, in response
to experiments made in mingled scepticism and longing.
The evidence of identity to which I have referred consisted
of three incidents which were quite unknown to me. They
had taken place, one about four months previous to my
husband's death, the others nearly two years before, and
two thousand miles from the scene of the communications.
Each incident was known to but one living person the
same one for two of the incidents and from these two
persons I obtained detailed and exact confirmation of all
that had been told me, even to the words spoken on each
occasion. In one case I was able, by skillful questioning,
to elicit this confirmation without giving, on my part, a
single detail of the incident which I wished to have recalled.

This was evidence of a nature which should have some
standing even in a court of law. Of evidence poignantly
convincing to me but not susceptible of corroboration by
others, there was abundance.

The communications increased in frequency and volume
during a period of several months until they occupied my
time for many hours every day. At the end of a year
they had diminished to a few lines at irregular intervals;
after that they almost ceased and no attempts, desire, or
prayers of mine have availed to bring back the earlier
fulness and freedom.

While I was in the midst of this daily experience I set
down a carefully accurate account of the manner of the
writing and of my impressions at the time. The following
paragraphs are quoted from that description, which was
written by me late in the fall of 1919.



4 THINK ON THESE THINGS

"I have never been in trance or any state approaching
trance. I am in full waking consciousness and in possession
of all my faculties. . . . Yet my hand is controlled. One
cannot prove this to the sceptical, but the fact remains to
the one who knows, conclusive unescapable. There is
something felt in the hand and arm, a potent force unknown
to the body hitherto. One does not know what the hand
is about to do. It writes sometimes with a light, flying
touch, sometimes with great vigor and assertion and hard
bearing-down. It twitches about, flourishes, gesticulates
with the pencil ; insists upon arbitrary things such as writing
the words in a column, one under the other down the page;
or printing, sometimes in tiny letters, sometimes in large
capitals. I do not often oppose its will for I want the
message, but I have had the pencil refuse to move when I
have purposely tried to change a word that was being
written.

I have never written with a pencil at any other time in
my life. I learned to write with a No. 1 Spencerian pen and
I have never used anything else except for the purpose of
these communications, which have to be taken down with
pencil because they come with a speed and continuity which
preclude stopping to dip pen in ink. At first the words
were all run together and the pencil never lifted except to
pass from one sheet to the next, but for some time now the
words have been detached and well spaced. T's are never
crossed nor i's dotted.

There are times when the control is as firm and unmistak-
able as if some strong guiding hand were laid over my
own more than that, for the control is felt throughout the
muscles of the arm. At other times I am conscious, at first,
of hardly more than a blind impulse to write, not knowing



THINK ON THESE THINGS 5

what the first stroke will be. In early days at such times
I would pause, perhaps thinking, There is no power,' and
then would come the plaintive request, 'Please move the
pencil for me,' and as I obeyed the words would continue
to shape themselves with increasing clearness and speed.

Sometimes I seem to hear the words before they are
written, as if some one were dictating and keeping two or
three words ahead of me all the time. . . . Even so I have
many times had another word substituted, in the instant of
writing, for the one I was too sure of done, too, with a
twitch of the pencil that seemed to say, 'So you think you
know just what I am going to do? Well, I'll show you
that you don't.' At other times the matter has been all
strange, unknown, unguessed, and with a quality of suspense
which has kept me almost breathless from word to word.

The communications might be separated into three classes.
One that is, as I have said, like something written from
dictation, and here there is more formality of expression
than at other times, as if the matter had been prepared or
thought out in advance. The second and largest class would
comprise those writings that are of the nature of a conver-
sation. My part, whether question, answer, or comment,
was not spoken but was clearly formulated in thought. In
the earlier records these conversations appear as mono-
logues; later I formed the habit of going over the writing
as soon as it was completed and jotting down my own part
in the conversation as well as I could remember it. In the
third class I seemed to find myself writing down the
thoughts of another. These always came with the utmost
rapidity and I was compelled to write at something close
to telegrapher's speed.



6 THINK ON THESE THINGS

It appeared that at such times F. did not always know,
even, that I was writing, and thus it chanced that I over-
heard, as it were, some of the most intimate self-searchings
and self-revealings such things as are not spoken even
between the nearest and dearest. After one or two dramatic
episodes when I was "discovered" and made to feel that I
had stolen in, unaware, to a secret place, I learned to
announce my presence more plainly. But it seemed that
sometimes the thoughts ran wild and were beyond control,
for the hurried words would come they always seemed to
me like a cry 'Don't let me say that' ! Of course the only
way I could prevent the 'saying' was to stop writing,
with a mind full of awe and wonder at the strange condi-
tions that seemed to enable me to listen, if I chose, to the
inmost thoughts of one who had gone beyond sight or
touch."

This was a phase that soon passed and as these communi-
cations were especially intimate and personal they are only
slightly represented in the pages that follow.

It hardly needs to be said that the companionship between
F. and myself had been unusually close. We had travelled
much, read much, thought and talked much. We shared
the love of Nature, books, and music. Neither of us was
of a religious temperament. F. was a worldly agnostic; I
used to call myself "an emancipated Puritan," but the
emancipation went so far that it left me adrift with very
little fixity of belief in anything.

It was only in the two years just preceding F.'s death
that some study of Eastern teachings had brought to both
of us belief in the persistence of conscious individuality
after death. We accepted this, as we accepted the idea of
reincarnation, partly because it suddenly appeared reason-



THINK ON THESE THINGS 7

able to us, but more, I think, because we felt the crying
need in ourselves of some hint of completion in the curious
pattern of our lives. There was that in the twisting, weav-
ing threads, even for the little space that we could see, that
told of more than chance behind the veil of the past and
that demanded of the future something more than the shears
of Atropos.

On the subject of our reading I should say that we had
touched upon Psychical Research, without going into it
deeply. We had together read Sir Oliver Lodge's Raymond
and this book did, for me, the important work of breaking
down much of my life-long prejudice against spiritualism.
(I have never known a medium or attended a seance.) Dur-
ing the year of my communicating I read several books
dealing with the subject in a general way but none that
contained verbatim messages unless I should except
Lodge's Survival of Man. In the summer of 1920 I turned
my attention to the recent literature of communications and
was amazed to find how many such books had been pub-
lished while I was "writing."

Coming down now to the present book: the selections
I give here from the messages received by me are nearly all
in chronological order and date from August, 1919, to
March, 1920, with a very few of later date added. I had
been writing in this way for four months prior to August,
but the earlier communications were for the most part
intensely personal; a few were confused or incoherent;
others were fantastic; in some there seemed to be an intru-
sion of alien personalities. F. often spoke of himself as in
darkness or fog, although from the first this condition
seemed to alternate with one in which perception was almost
blinded by a radiance of spiritual light.



8 THINK ON THESE THINGS

I have frankly chosen for this little book such messages
as would illustrate, first the personal characteristics that
were so strong in all the early and middle period of the
communicating, and later, the steady dawning of a spiritual
purpose which seems, at last, to have carried my Beloved
into regions where I may not follow while I am still
weighted to earth by this garment of the flesh.

In respect to the editing which these messages have re-
ceived, I wish to be explicit. These are, avowedly, extracts.
Very few communications are given in their entirety. The
more important omissions are indicated by dots; in some
instances I have joined the portions retained, where the
continuity of sense allowed this to be done, and in a few
cases I have written in a single connecting word. These
omissions have been mainly in the interest of condensation:
in no case has the sense of the original been changed.

The script, to use the technical expression, is almost
devoid of punctuation ; occasionally a period, very rarely an
interrogation point or marks of quotation that is all. So
I have punctuated in more or less orthodox fashion.

Beyond this I have not in any way altered or added to
what was given me.

The copied page is, however, sadly dull and inexpressive
beside the original, with its varying thought and emotion
reflected in many changes, sometimes subtle and sometimes
exceedingly obvious, in the size and character of the writing.
An exclamation point is but a poor substitute for the sudden
soaring that came with the thought of greatness or beauty
and inscribed itself in big, round letters that covered four
or five spaces of my ruled paper!

It is far from my desire to be dogmatic in regard to any-
thing contained in the following pages. We may be sure



THINK ON THESE THINGS 9

that so long as there is individuality there is not omni-
science, and I hope there are many who will rejoice, as I do,
at every fresh evidence of the Many Mansions in Our
Father's house, with infinite love and compassion abiding
over all.

I wish only that this may be taken for what it is the
authentic, though partial, record of a genuine experience;
and I would ask those who are given to thinking in terms
of the "subconscious," to be very sure that that word is a
true symbol representing an idea in their minds, not merely
an empty phrase used to obviate the necessity for a definite
idea.

It may so easily turn out that the "subconscious" is no
other than the imperishable Soul, and wiser than we dream !

"For within you is the light of the world, the only light
that can be shed upon the Path."

NOTE I have enclosed in parentheses the occasional words which
represent my part in the "conversation" when the communication
took place.

Square brackets are used to enclose any later editorial comment,
after the usual custom.

I have retained unaltered the familiar name which F. had given
me and which he used freely throughout the communications as he
had always done in the earth-life.



10 THINK ON THESE THINGS

COMMUNICATIONS

. . . You must not ask questions for they confuse the vibra-
tions. It is all vibrations, Harrie, but I can't explain how
the process is carried on. I only know that when I think
you hear what I think

You and I both have the faculty of seeing each other's
dream pictures as clearly as if they were our own. ...
When you think of beauty you do create it here and I see it.
You are really one of the most idealistic persons I ever
knew, Harrie. I never half knew you when we were on
earth. You have shown me sides of your nature that I never
suspected. You say neither did you, but they were there
or they could not come out now.

Surely we must have life together on our own plane of
love and beauty beautiful things, such as flowers, music,
stars, and the sea!

(The writing always grows so big when you speak of
the sea!)

Yes, the sea sends me up, but I will not go up now for

I mean to write while I can You know my imagination

runs away with me still; yes, just as it used to do. Harrie,
you did understand me more nearly than anybody else ever
did. I still hope that some day we shall find One who really
understands

Let me tell you about the pictures you make for me when
you try to see the places we have loved together. You

know you quite often think of the manuka at Rotorua

Yes, the tall bushes all powdered with little white starry
blossoms and you and I walking along the narrow path,



THINK ON THESE THINGS 11

the bushes above our heads, and stopping to look at all our
own special little springs of hot water the clear blue one
and the one that had the oil bubbling up and making scrolls
and figures such as the Maoris used to make, and all the
others.

Why, Harrie, are you crying?

You want to go on to our funny miniature mud volcano
that we used to watch so many times all those little plop-
plops! Yes, and the big cone that we used to throw matches
into and poke with sticks to see if we could make it erupt,
and sometimes it did, a little. . . .

Harrie, you know after I have written to you like this I
feel so clean and pure . . . and then I go higher than ever
and see such beautiful things. What a lot of writing you
do ... and I know it has done some good. How could all
your pure desire to help be wasted?

[On the following communication, received a few
days later, I find this notation in my own handwriting.
"I came to my desk straight from reading Lodge's
Survival of Man, in particular the part dealing with
communications from Mr. Myers. The writing from
the first was very strong, clear and rapid and accom-
panied by a sense of much excitement."]

Harrie, can you write now? You will please let me write
without interruption. I want to tell you some of the things
I have been thinking. I begin to think there have been
others trying to write through you. Sometimes there seem
to have been voices besides mine. Of course I can't be sure,
but it seems possible. You have been reading some of
those very things. . . You see I do know what you read when



12 THINK ON THESE THINGS

it is anything I am interested in, and I know every word
you read in that book. . . .

Even Mr. Myers did not know what he was doing any
more than I do and Harrie, yes, he said he had to grope
in fog and darkness when he was communicating, the same
as I do, and I am where I can communicate all the time, so
why should I be any better off than he was?

(You think that good news?)

Good news yes! I am not so much worse off than
others, after all! Yes, I am better off, for I am with you
all the time and I can write to you hours every day and we
can be as happy as we please! Harrie, I am so excited I
make you write too fast . . .

You know I wanted you to read that book. I felt it had
something in it for me. You smile, but I do know a thing
or two sometimes. ... I have known strange things, but also
I have imagined even more about some things. You stop
thinking, please. Why, so she did! Sometimes you really
are obedient ! . . . This is the very best news I have had for
a long time, that Myers had as bad a time as I am having.

(He had been over only a month, you know, when that
was written.)

No matter, he was communicating in fog and darkness
just as I am. You think that I could go on up if I wanted
to, but you know I don't want to. I want to stay with you.
You did want me to stay didn't you?

(I don't want to keep you in darkness.)

No, you would never have kept me from the light.
Perhaps I couldn't go on, anyway, but what does it matter,
Harrie, so long as we are together? . . .



THINK ON THESE THINGS 13

What nonsense that is about the consciousness being in
the hand. Of course the consciousness uses the hand
we'd better not go too fast. Never can tell, in this business.
. . . You think your hand, yes, and arm often is controlled
strongly by some will other than your own. . . . and you are
made to write either detached words or words allruntogether
likethis or

words column

down like

the this

sheet yes, of course you can do

in otherwise if you will, it is

a your hand, but there

is a power that pulls it to do something that is out of the
usual way of writing.

(Yes, and that power comes in some way from you.)
Of course. Don't I know that?

(But they know nothing as to how it is done, and neither
do we.)

Well, there is more truth than poetry in that.
(Haven't we written enough of this nonsense?)

You call this nonsense, do you? I call it pretty good
common sense for a man in fog and darkness

(F., do you seem to be specially conscious of my hand
and what it does?)

Harrie, yes, I do. Not all the time, but a good deal of
the time. I know whenever you even touch a piece of paper.

(Yes, I sometimes hear what you say at such times.)



14 THINK ON THESE THINGS

Yes, you have heard me a good many times. It always
gives me a thrill of excitement and I often say Harrie is
going to write now and then if you don't write I am
disappointed.

(You are more conscious of my hand than of anything
else about me, in a physical sense?)

Yes, I am, because I always think of that little hand that
does all the writing, and of course I am more conscious of
that than anything else.

You are patient with me, Harrie, for you do think that
perhaps some day we shall be able to know more than we
do now and you think that if ever anyone can know any-
thing about this business [of communicating] we ought to,
for we are in such perfect relationship of love and confi-
dence. . . . You know I want to help you and you know I
have got intelligence, when I am able to use it, and we both
believe that I am growing more able to use it.

It is something like being born over again and having to
learn to use one's faculties or powers or whatever they are
in this state that I am in now . . .

You do take so long to go from one sheet to another.
Can't help it, you say. No, I know you do the best you can.

Nothing whatever helps me so much as the knowledge of
your love. I mean the real, spiritual love, and that is the
greater part of your love for me. Yes, and of mine for
you. You know that I love you in every way, but we both
understand that the lower part of the earth-love must drop
away as we go into the higher levels of this other life, and
what is left is just the pure spiritual love.

What is this new feeling that I have for you?



THINK ON THESE THINGS 15

Is it that I am nearer to you or farther from you?
Which? You no longer seem to be part of me as you did
before. Harrie, don't let me go away from you, will
you? . . .

There seems to be change in myself, and you are writing
as easily and rapidly as possible . . . but that is not the
important thing. The important thing is that I want to tell
you what is the difference I feel, and it seems to me to be
this; that instead of feeling heavy and in thick fog I feel
buoyant and I am in the light

Harrie, it is lovely! I feel clean and happy. You will
help me to write, won't you? You wish I could talk more
freely and not keep you so in the dark. Why, yes, you are
the one who seems in the dark now. . . .

I tell you we are as nearly one as two beings can be and
retain any separate personalities. Think how close we were
at the last. You do know that that counts for something,
don't you? ... I have kept just so close to you in my thought
ever since. I don't even imagine that I could go on away

from you I often wonder what is on beyond but I never

think that I want to go on if it would mean going away
from you or where I could not communicate with you.

You will try not to ask questions, won't you? You are
naturally full of questions, but no matter what you think
about it the fact is they do confuse me, so try not to, dear.
Just let me keep on as I am doing and I will try to tell you
all I can. . . .

It gets you excited, doesn't it? You have so wanted me
to find the light. You think the better things will come.


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