Did'st e'er retire by self, alone, in peaceful, silent, sweet repose, Devoid of care and thought of toil, in trancelike state, yet not a doze, And have you deemed yourself alone, in that sweet rest from worldy care. Alone we cannot ever be, for angel thought is always there.

This angel guides us night and day, no matter what our moods may be. This angel came to earth with us; is with us through eternity. Sometimes he masks in robes of hate; again in robes of pride or love. We wonder whence this angel comes, as if from spirit realms above.

"Above?"There is no up nor down, in that vast realm which we term "space."

For "up at night is "down"at day, the front or back is as we face.

Aside from what this angel is, come, tell us where are we, or what.

Thought is our own sweet consciousness, without him we are simply naught

Then are not we an angel band, composed of thought that comes and goes.

Our body-self, a human seive, through which thought runs as water flows? Are thoughts apart from us, our friends, from spirit-world, or, worlds of space. Or are they our immortal selves, in earthy forms, as human race?

These thoughts are things, yea, spirit-things, which guide the flesh to good or ill.

The flesh is not immortal man, flesh is but "grass,"or field to till.

The body is the mask of man; a house . composed of rooms or cells.

This house is built by conscious thought, and thought within this structure dwells.

Expressional thought is mortal man; the inner thought the spirit-soul Man's limitations are but thought; the end of thinking is man's goal. Since thinking does not cease in sleep, when body-dumb is in repose, Will thinking cease without the form of living flesh - alas, who knows?

Sweet spirit thought, with reason comes and says: This subject we may scan. I am your spirit friend, and I am thought and thought is you, and you are man.

- C. H. Webber.