LITTLE LETTER

BY:  CARL R. SCHWING – SEPTEMBER 13, 1992

LETTER – 1992-S

 

The fields are yellow with golden rod ... Queen Ann's lace stands tall and strong at the edge of the path, and water beech display their amber leaves in the warm sunlight of mid September. The creek is shallow ... you can see its rock covered floor and the graceful movement of its inhabitants. There are a few red maple leaves resting on the water ... forerunners of the soon arrival of autumn. There is the scent of dried weeds in the gentle wind of late summer ... and, as usual, the aspens offer a loving wave offering to the Father ... for He too walks this lovely forest. 

 

The creek winds slowly around the bend through the shadows of the hills...leading as it were, into the vastness of forever. The water flows freely; it was made to be free. The wind blows freely, it was made to be free. My spirit moves freely ... it too was made to be free. All that my spirit can hear is the "still small voice" … all that it hungers for is His presence as it is carried beyond the memories of yesterday's dreams, into the vastness of God's reality. 

 

Oh man, your hands did not create this day ... your money did not buy its beauty, and your mind cannot comprehend its purpose. The day is new ... it is alive, and its voice carries a message to all who have ears to hear. Each moment and each movement of the day is free. Free to do His bidding. Free to bring forth the plan. Free to bring into view the dawn of the Kingdom's Day. 

 

As the world goes on in its pleasure, and the people of God imagine a "vain thing" ... the Earth knows and I know and you know, my brother-sons, that God is truly on the throne, and that all things are from Him and by Him and to Him. We know that the Father walks with us in the splendor of this hour ... this dawning ... this new day. Hallelujah! Let us, with great boldness, proclaim the glory of the Lord. Let us speak the life giving words of the Everlasting Gospel. Let us hold fast the Covenant which the Father gave to us in those pre-dawn millenniums. 

 

Deep within the heart of the Father dwell all the secrets of eternal life and eternal purpose. His Spirit cries to our spirits to come and see and know and live once again in the Eternal Sphere; even though our bodies walk this valley of the shadow of death. Dust (earth bound men) will always turn to dust (men). Ah, but our spirits, like the rising of the morning mist, ascend to the place where only the free can enter. 

 

Those who lack the knowledge of the hour cannot hinder the flight of the eagle, nor hold back the rising of the Son ... nor put out the flame of freedom which burns within the hearts of the sons. Like the fading of the rose, so the teachings of man fade in the light of truth. The words of the past are silenced as the word of the Everlasting Gospel flows forth from the Sons of God ... yea, even the Word that was, and is, and is to come. It was not given to the angels, nor to the ministries of yesteryear...it was given to the Sons of God's Christ to speak the words of life and liberty. 

 

So great is the moaning of the creation; their unheeded cries are carried by the Spirit unto the Sons of the Morning. The inner voices of mankind, unheard by natural men, speak to us in great sadness ... and the fear within them seems to never end. Their dreams have escaped them, yielding to the strong grip of change and decay ... passing away into the darkness of the age. They have forgotten their hopes. They do not know where they are going; to them there is little purpose or meaning to life ... except for fun and prosperity. They are deaf to the song of the mountains, blind to the colors of the rainbow, and unconcerned with the desecration of the earth and its inhabitants. They do not accept the blessings of today and have forgotten the promise of the future. Yet, within them there is a moaning, a hunger ... for truth and for the knowledge of the "better way." Their cry is like a crucifixion to our spirits. Now, more than ever, and louder than ever, our spirits cry out for the hour of the Manifestation of the Sons of God. 

 

There is a trumpet sounding in this dawn of the Seventh Day ... the message is loud and clear as it echoes from Mount Zion: The Sons of God shall lead the creation by the hand and by the heart. They shall bring comfort and light. In wisdom and truth they shall teach all to be free, and give to all things, everywhere, the love and life of the Creator. Love, Light and Life, is the path that leads to the "better way" ... it leads to the Father's Kingdom. 

 

There is nothing of the past which compares to the, glory that lies just ahead. Every word that was ever spoken or written becomes shallow and lifeless in the presence of the God Word that is unfolding within the purified hearts of the Sons of God. They are being immersed, as it were, in the Sea of Glory ... yea, even in the water of life which flows from the center of the Great I AM … deeper and deeper ... until upon the wings of the Spirit they are "risen" up in manifestation ... resurrected with the Eternal Life of their Risen Elder Brother. Hallelujah! 

 

This is the hour, my brother-sons, release your spirit from all restraining forces ... come up hither to the realm where Father God awaits thy coming. You were made to be free ... the Son of Freedom shines upon you. The Everlasting Gospel is free ... it is being freely opened to "US" ... partake of it freely. 

 

The fields are golden with the riches of the Father's Storehouse. Truth and righteousness stand tall and strong at the edge of the path. The glory of the Lord shines from the eyes of God's Christ. The gates of the Kingdom are open and we can hear the joyful sounds of its inhabitants. The spirits of our elder brothers bear witness to the soon appearing of the Sons of God. There is the sweet scent of love, mercy, and grace in the gentle wind of the Spirit. Let everything that has breath praise the Lord. The Father walks this lovely path with us. Hallelujah! 

 

 

 

September 13, 1992

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

LITTLE LETTER [Carl R. Schwing] 9-13-92               2

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