The ancient tradition that the world will be consumed by fire at the end of six-thousand years is true, as I have heard from Hell. For the cherub with his flaming sword is hereby commanded to leave his guard at the tree of life; and when he does, the whole creation will be consumed and appear infinite and holy, whereas it now appears finite and corrupt.

This will come to pass by an improvement of sensual enjoyment. But the first notion that a man has a body distinct from his soul is to be expunged; this I shall do by printing in the infernal method, by corrosives, which in Hell are salutary and medicinal, melting apparent surfaces away, and displaying the infinite which was hid. If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite. For man has closed himself up, until he sees all things through narrow chinks of his cavern.

I am that shadowy prophet who six-thousand years ago fell from my station in the Eternal Bosom. Six-thousand years are finished, I return! both time and space obey my will. I in six-thousand years walk up and down; for not one moment of time is lost, nor one event of space impermanent, but all remain: every fabric of six-thousand years remains permanent, though on the Earth where Satan fell and was cut off, all things vanish and are seen no more, they vanish not from me and mine, we guard them first and last. The generations of men run on in the tide of time, but leave their destined lineaments permanent, for ever and ever.

The stolen and perverted writings which all men ought to condemn, are set up by artifice against the sublime of the Bible; but when the New Age is at leisure to pronounce, all will be set right, and those grand works of the more ancient and the consciously and professively inspired men will hold their proper rank, and the Daughters of Memory shall become the Daughters of Inspiration.

Rise up, O young men of the New Age! Set your foreheads against the ignorant hirelings! For we have hirelings in the camp, the court and the university, who would, if they could, for ever depress the Mental and prolong Corporal War. Painters and Poets! On you I call. Sculptors! Architects! Suffer not the fashionable fools to depress your powers by the prices they pretend to give for contemptible works, or the expensive advertising boasts that they make of such works; believe Christ and the prophets, that there is a class of men whose whole delight is in destroying. We do not want their models if we are but just and true to our own imaginations, desiring those worlds of eternity in which we shall live for ever in Jesus, our Lord.