"For there are devils on the
earth," says Swedenborg, "as well as angels, and they both wear human
guise--but by this may we know them, that no mortal ties bind them, no
sphere confines them. They walk abroad, the one solely to evil for its
own sake, the other to universal good for the Father. Such as these die
not, but are translated, the one to hell, the other to heaven."
Do we not right, then, to confine and enslave devils while they abide
with us, or, if we can, to destroy them utterly? And if we discern them,
shall we not adore God's angels?
These dwell not long among us, and their eyes are fixed always with a
far, pure yearning for some sphere in which we have no part. We feel
this in our daily intercourse with them, for angels like these dwell
often in the lowliest form about us, and our common contact with them
thrills and awes us, though we scarcely realize that it is from them we
have these sensations, or what renders them so far, though near at hand!
Little children, submissive slaves, sad women, unresisting men, patient
physicians, great patriots, persistent preachers, martyr poets--all
these forms and phases in turn do our associate angels enter into and
inform.
But ever the sign is there! They are not ours! Among us, but not of
us--set apart, here for a season be it, longer or shorter, ready at any
time to spread their wings! My sister was of these--I did not recognize
this truth in the time of my great sorrow, when the parting plumes had
not revealed themselves to my undiscerning eyes.
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