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transcription: This is book number XI of the records of the writings from Patience Worth through Mrs John H. Curran of St. Louis MO covering period from June 1913 to Dec 3 - 1937.
Beside the records there are six published books: "The Sorry Tale" "The Pot upon the Wheel" "Light from Beyond" "Patience Worth - a Psychic Mystery" "Hope Trueblood" and "Telka."
Two other books "An Elizabethan Mask" (three days in the life of William Shakespeare) and "Samuel Wheaton" are complete but not published at this date.
This book contains Records from Oct 9-1919 to Jan 12-1920.
1947
4
date: 1919-10-09
names-on-the-page: Miss Hamilton; family; Addie
transcription: tober 9, 1919 ss Hamilton, e family.
Patience began with this oral estimate speaking in the voice of Miss Hamilton:
I am amazed at my own confidence. I am amazed that my own wisdom would intrude against the things that I have taken in as truth.
Lo, man hath uttered unto mine ear things which he hath announced aloud and surely, as truth. Yet, I have sat beside the roadway, letting my hands toy with pebbles, contemplating them and wondering if the tick of one against the other was not a greater wisdom than the utterance that man had delivered unto me so confidently.
What thing is there that may lift the oppression from this black-cloaked soul of mine? No word that I have taken within me hath unloosed even the buckle which holds it unto me.
I am a seeker of wisdom, but it shall be a thing which is creative. Its hands must lift. Its eyes must look directly within mine own. I cannot take man's words as a testimony. Rather would I listen to the ticking of the pebbles, and my hands are weary of the task.
I would raise my eyes and behold within the eyes of mankind an enlightenment, a something which might beckon my soul forth from its retreat. Is there nothing save the plucking of pebbles and the listening to the tick of one against the other?
I have listened long unto the announcements of faith, and faith hath been unto me as a spider web tenuously spread across briars, a confusion which was iridescently perfect but entangling. My faith must leave me free! Must be a thing apart. I must believe in it as a separate being, stronger than I.
Nothing that hath ever presented itself unto me has lifted my hands from their task of plucking up the pebbles. I am crying out for faith to beckon me, to relieve me of the black folds of the cloak which encircles my soul.
Miss Hamilton said it was the exact state of her religious belief, that what she had always craved was something that would appeal to her understanding. Patience said: "I ken me, I ken me, I ken me. A something like unto the only implement of warring that thy beloved fenced against the day. Ken ye this thing?"
It was not quite clear and she guessed until Patience said: "Nay, I say thy beloved had but one thing for a 'fense against the day, a smile."
Of course she meant Addie who had toiled and suffered and had never given a vicious world anything backbut a smile.
"I'll sing thee a song from thee to her," said Patience and she gave this wonderful poem:
(2006)
5
date: 1919-10-09
names-on-the-page: Patience; Miss Hamilton; Samuel Wheaton
transcription: tober 9, 1919 - Page 2
-Show Me Thy Pillow-
Beloved, beloved, beloved, where? In this dark water which stretcheth Between thee and me inpenetrable? Is there no barque which shall make The pathway upon the charted way?
Beloved, beloved, what! Thou has left me with but a Baggage of sorrow, torn smiles, Bleeding things whose breasts are bare, Eyes that beam, deeply pitted of That burning taper which lights thy soul, Hands that, worn weary, still labored Pitifully, with the urge, the lash Of love upon them.
Beloved, beloved, hast thou then Left me but with the baggage of sorrow? No beckoning hand? No light upon the Horizon? No promise-foreglow of the sun? No morning star e'en pinning the Night's raiment to the fringe of gold Which morning wears?
Beloved, beloved, I might weep, But I have seen thee sleep! Sleep Like a little child grown weary, and rested Upon a pulsing bosom, unfearfully.
Beloved, beloved, leave me -- Leave me with the sorrow and the Memories. I ask thee but this: That thou shalt let my hand to rest In that reclineful pose upon that pulsing Bosom. I charge thee, I charge thee! Leave me, leave me, but, returning, Show me the spot whereon thou Didst fall asleep!
We read it over. It would be enough, we said, for we knew her sister who was gone. Patience said to Miss Hamilton: "No word, damie, announceth thy faith like unto thy day."
-Men-
Men, men, men! Fellowable company but egots. Each man is breeked in egotry. Aye, and his thatch is covered wi' a cap o' self, egad! Egad, what a day! Each man is a twain o' self, and self! To sit, egad, and watch their struttin' and whisper: "Lout, lout, lout." What a jest!
At this Patience wrote about 400 words of Samuel Wheaton and then said: "I hae a singin' for mine bairn." It was for the Wee's birthday. (2007)