The Christian Digest [14]
Presents
Within the Gates

Originally titled "Intra Muros," by Rebecca Springer. Edited by Gordon Lindsay. First published 1922, reprinted 1992 by Christ for the Nations.

         I WAS MANY HUNDREDS OF MILES AWAY from home and friends, and had been ill for many weeks. I was entirely among strangers, and my only attendant, though of a kindly disposition, knew nothing whatever about the duties of the sickroom; hence I had none of the many delicate attentions that keep up an invalid's failing strength. I'd had no nourishment of any kind for nearly three weeks, scarcely even water, and was greatly reduced in both flesh and strength. I had an unutterable longing for the presence of my distant loved ones, but they never came--they could not.
         I lay in a large comfortable room, on the second floor of a house in Kentville. A large stained-glass window opened upon a veranda fronting on the street. During much of my illness I lay with my face to the window. When the longing for distant faces and voices became more than I could bear, I prayed that the dear Christ would help me to realize His blessed presence; and that since loved ones of Earth could not minister to me, I might feel His presence. Especially did I not ask to be sustained should I be called to pass through the dark waters alone.
         It was no idle prayer, and the response came swiftly and speedily. All anxieties and cares slipped away from me as a worn-out garment, and Christ's peace enfolded me. One morning, dark and cold and stormy, after a day and night of intense suffering, I seemed to be standing on the floor by the bed, in front of the stained-glass window. Someone was standing by me, and when I looked up I saw it was my husband's favorite brother, who "crossed the river" many years ago.
         "My dear brother Frank!" I cried out joyously. "How good of you to come!"
         "It was a great joy to me that I could do so, little sister," he said gently. "Shall we go now?" And he drew me toward the window. I turned my head and looked back into the room that somehow I felt I was about to leave forever. The attendant sat by the stove at the farther end, comfortably reading a newspaper; and on the bed turned toward the window lay a still white form, with the shadow of a smile on the poor worn face. My brother drew me gently, and I yielded, passing with him through the window, out on to the veranda, and from thence on down the street.
         There I paused and said earnestly, "I cannot leave my husband Will and our dear son."
         "They are not here, dear, but hundreds of miles away," he answered.
         "Yes, I know, but they will be here. Oh Frank, they will need me--let me stay!" I pleaded.
         "Would it not be better if I brought you back a little later--after they come?" he said with a kind smile.
         "Would you certainly do so?" And with his assurance we started slowly up the street. But my heart clung to the dear ones whom I felt I would not see again on Earth, and several times I stopped and looked wistfully back the way we had come. He was very patient and gentle with me, waiting always until I was ready to proceed again.
         At length he said, "You are so weak that I think I had better carry you." And without waiting for a reply, he stooped and lifted me in his arms, as though I had been a little child, and like a little child I yielded, resting my head upon his shoulder and laying my arm about his neck. It seemed so sweet after the long lonely struggle to have someone assume the responsibility of caring thus tenderly for me.

Entering Paradise
         He walked on with firm, swift steps, and I think I must have slept, for the next thing I knew I was sitting in a sheltered nook made by flowering shrubs upon the softest and most beautiful turf in the world, thickly studded with fragrant flowers, many of them flowers I had known and loved on Earth. In the first moment I observed how perfect in its way was every plant and flower.
         And what a scene that was on which I looked as I rested upon this fragrant cushion. Away, far beyond the limit of my vision, stretched this wonderful swirl of grass and flowers. And out of it grew equally wonderful trees whose drooping branches were laden with exquisite blossoms and fruits of many kinds. I found myself thinking of St. John's vision on the Isle of Patmos, and the tree of life that grew in the midst of the garden, bearing "twelve manner of fruits, and whose leaves were for the healing of the nations."
         Beneath the trees, in many happy groups, were little children laughing and playing, running hither and thither in their joy. All through the grounds older people were walking, sometimes in groups, sometimes by twos, sometimes alone, but all with an air of peacefulness and happiness that made itself felt by me, even a stranger. All were in spotless white, though many wore about them or carried in their hands clusters of beautiful flowers. As I looked upon their happy faces and their spotless robes, again I thought, "These are they which have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb."

Heavenly Homes
         Everywhere I looked I saw elegant and beautiful houses of a strangely attractive architecture, half-hidden by the trees, that I felt must be the homes of the happy inhabitants of this enchanted place. I caught glimpses of sparkling fountains in many different directions, and close to my retreat flowed a river with placid surface and water as clear as crystal. The walks that ran in many directions through the grounds appeared to be of pearl, spotless and pure, bordered on either side by narrow strips of crystalline water running over stones of gold. The one thought that fastened itself upon me as I looked breathless and speechless upon this scene was "Purity, purity!" No shadow of dust, no taint of decay of fruit or flower; everything perfect, everything pure. The grass and flowers looked as though fresh-washed by summer showers, and not a single blade was any other color but the brightest green. The air was soft and balmy though invigorating; and instead of sunlight there was a golden glow and rosy glory everywhere; something like the afterglow of a southern sunset in midsummer.
         Suddenly I looked up and heard my brother, who was standing beside me, say softly, "Well?" I discovered that he was watching me with keen enjoyment. I had in my great surprise and delight wholly forgotten his presence. I would have answered, but then such an overpowering sense of God's goodness and my own unworthiness swept over me that I dropped my face in my hands, and burst into uncontrollable and very human weeping.
         My brother lifted me gently to my feet and said, "Come. I want to show you the river."
         When we reached the brink of the river but a few steps distant, I found that the lovely meadow ran even to the water's edge, and in some places I saw flowers blooming placidly down in the depths among the colored pebbles with which the entire bed of the river was lined. My brother, stepping into the water, urged me to do the same.
         I drew back timidly, saying, "I fear it is cold."
         "Not in the least," he said with a reassuring smile. "Come!"
         "Just as I am?" I said, glancing down at my lovely robe, which to my great joy I found was similar to those of the dwellers in that happy place.
         "Just as you are," he said with a reassuring smile. Thus encouraged I stepped into the gently flowing river, and to my great surprise I found the water in both temperature and density almost identical with the air. Deeper and deeper grew the stream as we passed on.
         "It will go over my head," I objected. "I cannot breathe under the water--I will suffocate."
         An amused twinkle came into his eyes, though he said soberly enough, "We do not do those things here." Realizing the absurdity of my position, I plunged headlong into the bright water, which soon rippled several feet above my head. To my surprise and delight, I found I could not only breathe, but laugh, talk and hear as naturally under the water as above it.
         Then the thought came as we prepared to leave the water, what would we do for towels, for Earth thoughts still clung to me. And I wondered too if my lovely robe was not spoiled. But behold, as we neared the shore and my head once more emerged from the water, the moment the air struck my face and hair I realized that I would need no towel or brush. My flesh, my hair, my beautiful garments were as soft and dry as they had been before the water touched them.
         The material out of which my robe was fashioned was unlike anything that I had ever seen. It was soft and light and shone with a faint lustre, reminding me more of silk crepe than anything I could recall, only infinitely more beautiful. It fell about me in soft graceful folds, which water seemed to have rendered even more lustrous than before.
         We walked on a few steps and then I turned and looked back at the shining river flowing on so tranquilly. "Frank, what has the water done for me?" I said. "I feel as though I could fly."
         He looked at me with earnest, tender eyes as he answered gently, "It has washed away the last of the Earth life and fitted you for the new life into which you have entered."
         "It is divine," I whispered.
         "Yes, it is divine," he said.

Home at Last!
         We walked on for some distance in silence, my heart unbelieving with the thoughts of the strange new life. The houses, as we approached and passed them, seemed wondrously beautiful to me. They were built of the finest marbles, encircled by broad verandas, the roofs or domes supported by massive or delicate pillars or columns. And winding steps led down to the pearl and golden walks. Happy faces looked out from these columned walls, and happy voices rang upon the clear air from many a celestial home.
         "Frank, where are we going?" at length I asked.
         "Home, little sister," he answered tenderly.
         "Home! Have we a home, my brother? Is it anything like these?" I asked with a wild desire in my heart to cry out for joy.
         "Come and see," was his only answer, as he turned into a side path, leading towards an exquisitely beautiful house whose columns of very light grey marble shone through the green of the overhanging trees with the most inviting beauty. Before I could join him, I heard a well-remembered voice saying close beside me, "I just had to be the first to bid you welcome!" Looking around, I saw the dearly loved face of my old friend, Mrs. Wickham.
         "Oh, oh!" I cried as we met in a warm embrace.
         "You will forgive me, Colonel Springer," she said a moment later, giving her hand cordially to my brother, "It seems almost unpardonable to intercept you thus, in almost the first hour, but I heard that she was coming, and I could not wait. But now that I have looked upon her face and heard her dear voice, I will be patient till I can have her for a long, long talk. We have all eternity before us! But you will bring her to me soon, Colonel Springer?" she asked.
         "Just as soon as I may, dear madam," he replied with an expressive look into her eyes.
         Then with a warm handclasp and the parting injunction, "Come very soon," she swiftly passed out of my sight.
         "Her home is not very far away. You can see her often. She is a lovely woman. Now come, little sister. I long to give you a welcome to our home." With that he took my hand and led me up to the broad veranda, with its beautiful inlaid floor of rare and costly marbles, and its massive columns of grey, between which vines covered with rich glossy leaves were intermingled with flowers of exquisite color and delicate perfume hanging in heavy festoon. We paused a moment here that I might see the charming view on every side.
         "It is heavenly," I said.
         He answered that it could not be otherwise, and led me through a doorway between the marble columns into a large reception hall, whose inlaid floor and broad, low stairway at the far end at once held my fancy. Before I could speak, my brother took my two hands and said "Welcome, a thousand welcomes, dearest sister, to your heavenly home!"
         "It is your home and I am to stay with you?" I said, a little confused.
         "No. It is your home, and I am to stay with you until my brother comes."
         "Always, dear brother, always!" I cried clinging to his arm.
         He smiled and said, "We will enjoy the present; we never will be far apart again. But come, I am eager to show you all."
         Turning to the left, he led me through the beautiful marble columns that everywhere seemed substituted for doorways into a long oblong room upon whose threshold I stopped in wondering delight. The entire walls of the room were again of that exquisite light grey marble, polished to the greatest lustre, but over the walls and floor were strewn exquisite long-stemmed roses of every variety and color, from the deepest crimson to the most delicate shades of pink and yellow.

Celestial Art from the Youthful Craftsmen
         I stooped to touch them, and lo, they were imbedded in the marble. My brother explained: "One day while the house was building, a company of young people came to the door and asked if they might enter. I gladly gave them my consent. Then they asked who the building was for, and when I told them, they asked, `May we beautify this room?' I gave them permission, wondering what they might do.
         "The girls, who had immense bunches of roses in their hands, began to throw the flowers over the floor and against the walls. Wherever they struck the walls, to my surprise, they remained as though in some way permanently attached. When all the roses had been scattered, the room looked just as it does now, only the roses were really freshly gathered roses. Then the boys each produced a small case of delicate tools and in a moment all boys and girls were down on the marble floor and busy at work. How they did it, I do not know--it is one of the celestial arts, taught to those of highly artistic tastes--but they imbedded each living flower just where it had fallen in the marble and preserved it as you see before you.
         "They came several times before the work was completed, for the flowers do not wither here nor fade, but are always fresh and perfect. And such a merry, happy company of young people I never saw before! They laughed and chatted, and sang as they worked. I could not help wishing more than once that the friends whom they had left in mourning for them might look upon this group and see how little cause for sorrow they had. At last, when all the work was completed, they called me to see their work, and I was not sparing of my praises either for the beauty of the work, or for their skill in performing it. Then, saying they would be sure to return when either of you came, they went away together to do something of the kind elsewhere, I do not doubt."
         Happy tears began dripping upon my hands, and, greatly touched, I asked who these lovely people were. He replied that he knew them now, but they were strangers until they came that first morning. And he named them. They were children I had known in my Earth days.
         "Precious children," I said. "How little I thought my love for them in the olden days would ever bring to me this added happiness here! How little we know of the links binding the two worlds!"

Life in Paradise, a Continuation of the One Here
         "Ah, yes," said my brother, "that is just it. How little we know. If only we could realize while we are yet mortals that day by day we are building for eternity, how different our lives in many ways would be! Every gentle word, every generous thought, every unselfish deed will become a pillar of eternal beauty in the life to come. We cannot be selfish and unloving in one life and generous and loving in the next. The two lives are too closely blended--one but a continuation of the other. But now come to the library."
         Rising, we crossed the room that henceforth was to hold for me such tender associations, and entered the library. It was a glorious apartment--the walls lined from ceiling to floor with rare and costly books. A large stained glass window opened upon the front veranda. A semicircular row of shelves supported by very delicate pillars of grey marble, about six feet high, extended some fifteen feet into the spacious main room and cut it in two sections lengthwise, each one with bowed windows in the back, leaving still a large space beyond the dividing line, where the two sections united into one.
         By the bowed window stood a beautiful writing desk with everything ready for use. Upon it was a chaste golden bowl whose spicy odor I had been dimly conscious of for some time. "It is my brother's desk and his favorite flowers. Here we never forget the tastes and preferences of those we love."

Similarities Between Earth and Paradise
         Not all the details were at once noticed by me, but they unfolded to me gradually as we lingered talking together. My first sensation upon entering the room was genuine surprise at the sight of the books, and my first words were:
         "Why, have we books in Heaven?"
         "Why not?" asked my brother. "What strange ideas we mortals have of the pleasures and duties of the blessed life! We seem to think that the death of the body means an entire change to the soul. But that is not the case by any means. We bring to this life the same tastes, the same desires, the same knowledge we had before death. What would be the use of our ofttimes long lives, given to the pursuit of certain worthy and legitimate knowledge, if at death it counts for nothing and we begin this life on a wholly different line of thought and study? No, no, would that all would understand, as I said before, that we are building for eternity during our earthly life. The purer the thought, the nobler the ambitions, the loftier the aspirations, the higher the rank we take among the hosts of Heaven. The more earnestly we follow the studies and duties in the life of probation, the better fitted we shall be to carry them forward, on and on to completion and perfection here."
         "But the books--who writes them? Are any of them books we knew and loved below?"
         "Undoubtedly, many of them; all indeed that in any way helped to elevate the human mind or immortal soul. Then many of the rarest minds in the Earth-life, upon entering this higher life, gain such elevated and extended views of the subjects that have been their lifelong studies, that exploring them with zest, they write out for the benefit of those less gifted, the higher, stronger views they themselves acquired, thus remaining leaders and teachers in this rarer life, as they were while yet in the world.
         "It is not to be expected that the great souls of those who have recently joined our ranks, and who uplifted so many lives while on Earth, should lay aside their pens. When they have learned their lessons well, they will write them out for the benefit of those less gifted, who must follow. Leaders there always must be, in this divine life, as in the former life--leaders and teachers in many varied lines of thought. But all this knowledge will come to you simply and naturally as you grow into this new life."
         After a short rest in this lovely room among the books, my brother took me through all the remaining rooms of the house, each perfect and beautiful in its own way, and each distinctly and imperishably photographed upon my memory. Of only one other will I speak at this time. As he drew aside the gauzy draperies, lined with the most delicate shade of amber, which hung before the columned doorway of a lovely room on the second floor of the house, he said, "Your own special place for rest and study."
         The entire second story of the house indoors, instead of being made of grey marble as was the first floor, was finished with inlaid wood of fine satiny texture and rare polish; and the room we now entered was exquisite both in design and finish. It was oblong in shape, with a large bowed window at one end, similar to those in the library, a portion of which was directly below this room. Within this window on one side stood a writing desk of solid ivory, with silver furnishings. And opposite was a case of well-filled bookshelves of the same material. Among the books, I found afterward, were many of my favorite authors. Rich rugs of silver grey in color lay scattered over the floor, and all the hangings in the room were of the same delicate hue and texture as those at the entrance. The framework of the furniture was of ivory, the upholstering of the chairs of silver grey cloth, with the finish of the finest satin; and the pillows and covering of the dainty couch were of the same. Several graceful vases were filled with roses.

The Purity and Beauty of Paradise
         After some time in this delightful place, we passed through the open window onto the marble terrace. A stairway of artistically finished marble wound gracefully down from this terrace to the lawn beneath the trees. The fruit-laden branches of the trees hung within easy reach from the terrace, and I noticed as I stood there that morning seven varieties. One kind resembled our Bartlett pear, only much larger, and infinitely more delicious to the taste, as I soon found. Another variety was in clusters, the fruit also pear-shaped, but smaller than the former, and of the consistency and flavor similar to the finest frozen cream. It seemed to me at the time, and really proved to be so, that a great variety and excellence of food was provided without labor or care. My brother gathered some of the different varieties and bade me try them. I did so with relish and refreshment.
         Once the rich juice from the pear-like fruit ran out profusely over my hands, and the front of my dress. "Oh," I said, "I have ruined my dress, I fear!"
         My brother laughed genially as he said, "Show me the stains." To my amazement, not a spot could I find. "Look at your hands," he said. I found them clean and fresh, as though just from the bath.
         "What does it mean? My hands were covered with the thick juice of the fruit."
         "Simply," he answered, "that no impurity can remain for an instant in the air. Nothing decays, nothing tarnishes, nor in any way disfigures nor mars the universal purity or beauty of this place. As fast as the fruit ripens and falls, all that is not immediately gathered at once evaporates, not even the seed remaining."
         I had noticed that no fruit lay beneath the trees--this then was the reason for it.
         "And there shall in no wise enter into it anything that defileth," I quoted thoughtfully.
         "Yes, even so," he answered, "even so."

Meeting My Parents
         We descended the steps and again entered the flower-room. As I stood once more admiring the inlaid roses, my brother asked, "Whom of all the friends you have in Heaven, do you wish most to see?"
         "My father and mother," I answered quickly. He smiled so significantly that I hastily turned, and there, advancing up the long room to meet me, I saw my dear father and mother, and with them my youngest sister. With a cry of joy I flew into my father's outstretched arms, and heard with a thrill of joy his dear familiar, "My precious little daughter!"
         "At last, at last!" I cried, clinging to him. "At last I have you again!"
         "At last!" he echoed with a deep-drawn breath of joy. Then he resigned me to my dear mother, and we were soon clasped in each other's embrace.
         "My precious mother!" "My dear child," we cried simultaneously. And my sister enfolding us both in her arms exclaimed with a happy cry, "I cannot wait! I will not be left outside!" And disengaging one arm, I threw it around her neck and drew her into the happy circle of our united love.
         Oh, what an hour was that! I did not dream that even Heaven could hold such joy. After a time my brother, who had shared our joy, said: "Now I can safely leave you for a few hours to this blessed reunion, for I have other work before me."
         "Yes," said my father, "you must go. We will with joy take charge of our dear child."
         "Then for a brief while, goodbye," said my brother kindly. "Do not forget that rest, especially to one but recently entered upon the new life, is not only one of the pleasures, but one of the duties of Heaven."
         "Yes, we will see she does not forget that," said my father with a kindly smile and glance.
         After my brother's departure my mother said, grasping my hand, "Come. I am eager to have you in our own home." We all passed out of the rear entrance, walked a few hundred yards across the soft turf, and entered a lovely home somewhat similar to our own, yet unlike it in many details. Every room spoke of modest refinement and taste, and the home air about it was at once delightfully perceptible. My father's study was on the second floor, and the first thing I noticed on entering was the luxuriant branches and flowers of a rose tree that covered the window by his desk.
         "Ah," I cried, "I can almost imagine myself in your old study at home when I look out that window."
         "Is it not a reminder?" he said laughing happily. "I almost think sometimes that it is the same dear old bush transplanted here."
         "It seems this ought to be your home, dear; it is our father's home," said my sister wistfully.
         "Nay," my father quickly interposed. "Colonel Springer is her legitimate guardian and instructor. It is a wise and admirable arrangement. He is in every way the most suitable instructor she could possibly have. Our Father never errs. Her brother stands very near the Master. Few have a clearer knowledge of the divine will, hence few are better fitted for instructors. But I too have duties that call me for a time away. How blessed to know that there can never again be long separations! You will have two homes now, dear child--your own and ours."

Instruction of Those Who Had
Little Preparation for Heaven
         At this moment a swift messenger approached my father and spoke a few low words. "Yes, I will go at once," he replied, and waving his hand in adieu, departed with the angelic guide.
         My mother said, "He is called usually to those who enter life with little preparation--that which on Earth is called deathbed repentance. You know what wonderful success he always had with winning souls to Christ; and these poor spirits need to be taught from the very beginning. They enter the spirit-life in its lowest phase, and it is your father's pleasant duty to lead them upward step by step. He is devoted to his work and greatly beloved by those he thus helps. He allows me often to accompany him and labor with him, and that is such a pleasure to me. And do you know"--she said with a look of happiness--"I never forget anything now."
         It had been her great burden for some years before her death that her memory failed her sadly, and I could understand and sympathize with her present delight.

Solicitude for Those Still on Earth
         A little later my sister drew me tenderly aside and whispered, "Tell me of my little boy. My precious son. I often see him, but we are not permitted to know as much of the Earth life as we once believed we should. The Father's wisdom metes out to us knowledge as He sees best, and we are content to wait upon His time for more. All you can tell us would not be denied me. Is he surely coming to me some time? Shall I hold him again in my arms, my darling boy?"
         "I am sure--yes, I am sure you will. Your memory is very precious to him."
         Then I told her all I could recall of the son with whom she parted while he was yet a child --now grown to a man's estate, honored and loved, with home and wife and son to comfort and bless him.
         "Then I can wait," she said, "if he is sure to come to me at last when his earthly work is done, bringing his wife and son. Now I shall love them too!"

Meeting My Brother and Other Relatives
         At this moment I felt myself encircled by tender arms, and a hand was laid gently on my eyes. "Who is it?" someone whispered softly.
         "Oh, I know the voice, the touch--dearest, dearest Neil!" I cried and turning quickly, threw my arms around the neck of my only brother. He gathered me warmly to his heart. Then in his old-time playful way he lifted me quite off my feet in his strong arms.
         After some words he said, "But come now; they have had you long enough for the first visit--the rest of us want you for a while. Mother, I may have them both for a little time, may I not? Or will you come too?" turning to my mother with a caressing touch.
         "I cannot go, dear boy; I must be here when your father returns. Take your sisters; it is a blessed sight to see you all together again."
         "Come then," he said, and each taking one of my hands we went out together. After a short walk we stopped abruptly in front of a dainty house built of the finest polished woods. It was beautiful, both in architecture and finish. I paused a moment on the wide veranda to examine a vine wreathed about the columns of highly polished wood, and my brother laughingly said to my sister:
         "She is the same old sis! We will not get much good out of her until she has learned the name of every flower, vine and plant in Heaven."
         Stepping inside a lovely vestibule, out of which opened from every side spacious rooms, he called softly, "Alma!" At once from one of these a fair woman approached us.
         "My dear child!" I said. "It does not seem possible! You were but a child when I last saw you."
         "She is still her father's girl," said my brother with a fond look. "She and Carrie, whom you never saw, make a blessed home for me. Where is your sister, daughter?"
         "She is at the great music hall. She has a very rich voice that she is cultivating," Alma said, turning to me. "We were going to find our aunt when she returned," she added.
         Then they showed me their lovely home, perfect and charming in every detail. When we came out upon a side veranda, I saw we were so near an adjoining house that we could easily step from one veranda to another. My brother lifted me lightly over the intervening space. "There is someone here you will wish to see."
         The house we entered was almost identical in construction and finish with that of my brother, Neil, and as we entered, three persons came eagerly forward to greet me. It was my father's sister, always a favorite aunt, with her son and his wife. How we did talk and cling to one another and ask and answer questions!
         "It is so nice to have Dr. Neil so near to us. We are almost one household, as you see. All felt we must be together."
         "It is indeed," I answered "although you no longer need him in his professional capacity."
         "No, thanks to the Father; but we need him quite as much in other ways."
         "I think I am the one to be grateful," said my brother. "But sister, I promised Frank that you should go to your own room. He thought it wise you should be left alone for awhile. Shall we go now?"
         Then my brother went with me to my own home, and with a loving embrace, left me at the door of my room.
         Once within, I lay down upon my couch to think over the events of this wonderful day. I forgot all else, and Christ's peace enfolding me like a mantle, I rested.

Surprises in Heaven!
         One day I was with my brother Frank, when I saw a tall young man looking wistfully at us. A close scrutiny revealed his identity, and I exclaimed with joy, extending both hands to him, "My dear Caroll!"
         He smiled a bright welcome as he extended both hands. "Will you come and see the home that is being built for my mother?"
         I looked at my brother for his sanction. He nodded his head pleasantly and said to Caroll, "I will leave you two together, and will you bring her to me later?"
         "Indeed, yes," said my nephew; and we went away happily together. We soon reached the home, and I was truly charmed with it in every way. It was fashioned much like my brother Neil's home, and like it, built of polished woods. It was only partly finished but was most artistically done. Although uncompleted, I was struck with the fact that everything was perfect so far as finished. There was no debris anywhere; no chips, no shavings, no dust. The wood seemed to be perfectly prepared elsewhere--where, I have no idea. The pieces were made to fit accurately like the parts of a great wooden puzzle. It required much skill and artistic taste to properly adjust each piece to its place.
         "You know," my nephew said, "there is no noise from the workmen here; no hammering, no unwelcome sounds," I thought at once of the temple of Jerusalem, where during its erection there was "neither hammer nor axe nor any tool of iron heard in the house."
         "It is very beautiful, my dear boy," I said enthusiastically, "But what is this--a fireplace? Is it ever cold enough for fires?"
         "It is never cold," he answered, "but the fire here never sends out unneeded warmth. We have its cheer and beauty and glow, without any of its discomforts."
         "It is charming! But did you not make the stained-glass window also?"
         "No, I have a friend who has been taught that art, and we exchange work. He helps me with the windows and I in turn help him with his fine woodwork and inlaying. I am going to make a `flower room' for my mother similar to yours, only of lilies and violets, which will retain their perfume always."
         "How lovely! I want to thank you, dear Caroll, for your share in our flower room. It is the most exquisite work I ever saw; and it is doubly so when I remember whose hands fashioned it."
         "It was a labor of love with us all," he said simply.
         "That is what enhances its beauty for me," I said. "But sit here by me now and tell me about yourself. Do you spend all your time at this delightful work?"
         "Oh no, indeed! Perhaps what we used to call two or three hours daily. Much of my time is still spent with grandfather. I do not know what I should have done when I first came here but for him. I was so ignorant about this life and came so suddenly. He met me at the very entrance and took me at once home where he and grandma did everything possible to instruct and help me."

"If I Had Only Done More on Earth."
         "If I could even go back to the old life for an entire year--if I could only go to my old friends, or better, into every Sunday school in the world, and beseech the boys and girls to try to understand and profit by the instruction there received. I used to go to Sunday school, help sing the hymns, read the lessons, listen to all that was said, and I really enjoyed every minute of it. Sometimes I would feel a great longing for a better life, but there seemed to be no one to especially guide me or help me, and the impression made was very transient. Why do not the teachers take more interest in the daily lives of their scholars? Oh, I wish I could go back and tell them this!"
         His face beamed with enthusiasm as he talked, and I too wished it might be possible for him to do as he desired. But alas! "Neither will they believe though one rose from the dead," I thought.
         "It is time for me to go with my grandfather," he said, arising, "but we will walk together as far as your home and you will let me see you often, will you not?"
         "Gladly," I answered as we set forth.
         We conversed of many things as we walked, until we reached my door, and with a word that we would meet again, we parted.

New Surprises at Every Turn
         As time passed, and I grew more accustomed to the heavenly life about me, I found its loveliness unfolded to me like the slow opening of a rare flower. Delightful surprises met me at every turn. Now a dear friend, from whom I had parted years ago in the Earth-life, would come unexpectedly upon me with cordial greeting. Now one--perhaps on Earth greatly admired, but from whom I held aloof, for fear of unwelcome intrusion--would approach me, showing the lovely soul so full of kindness and congenial thought that I would feel a pang of regret for what I had lost. Then the clear revelation of some truth, only partly understood in life, though eagerly sought for, would stand out clear and strong before me, overwhelming me with its lustre and perhaps showing the close tie linking the Earth-life with the divine. But the most wonderful to me was the occasional meeting with someone whom I had hoped to meet Over There, who with eager handclasps and tearful eyes would pour forth his earnest thanks for some helpful word, some solemn warning, or even some stern rebuke that turned him, all unknown to myself, from the paths of sin to life everlasting. Oh, the joy to me of such revelation! Oh, the regret that my Earth life had not been more full of such work for eternity.
         For a time each day I listened to the entrancing revelations and instructions of my brother. One day as I was on my way to the river, my voice joined to the wonderful anthem of praise everywhere sounding, I saw a lovely girl approaching me swiftly with outstretched arms.
         "Dear Aunt Rebecca!" she called as she drew near. "Do you not know me?"

Meeting My Niece
         "My little Mae!" I cried, gathering the dainty creature into my arms. "Where did you spring from so suddenly, dear? Let me look at you again," holding her at arm's length, only to draw her again tenderly to me. "You have grown very beautiful, my child. I may say this to you without fear, I am sure. You were always lovely; you are simply radiant now. Is it this divine life?"
         "Yes," she said modestly and sweetly, "but most of all being near our Savior so much."
         "Oh, yes, that's it--being near Him! That will make any being radiant and beautiful," I said.
         "He is so good to me; so generous, so tender! He seems to forget how little I have done to deserve His care."
         "He knows you love Him, dear heart; that means everything to Him."
         "Love Him! Oh, if loving Him deserves reward, I am sure I ought to have every wish of my heart, for I love him a thousand-fold better than anything on Heaven or Earth. I would die for Him!"
         The sweet face grew surpassingly radiant and beautiful as she talked, I began to dimly understand the wonderful power of Christ among the redeemed in Heaven. The dear child, so lovely in all mortal graces, so full of Earth's keenest enjoyments during the whole of her brief life--pure and good as we count goodness below, yet seemingly too absorbed in life's gaieties to think deeply of things she yet in her heart revered and honored, now in this blessed life counted the privilege of loving Christ, of being near Him, beyond every other joy. And now how that love refined and purified the giver.
         In our conversation she turned to me and asked quickly, "When is my Uncle Will coming?"
         My hand closed tightly over hers and a sob almost arose in my throat, though I answered calmly, "That is in God's hands alone; we may not question."
         "Yes, I know His Will is always right; but I so long to see my dear Uncle Will again."

Visiting the Lake
         Since we parted she had grown so womanly, so wise, this child of tender years, that it was a joy to speak to her. As we talked she asked me if I had seen the lake, and I echoed, "Is there a lake here?"
         "Certainly," she said with a little pardonable pride that she should know more of the heavenly surroundings than I. And so we turned in the direction of the lake, and passing through ever-varying landscape, we finally came upon it.
         I caught my breath, then stopped abruptly and covered my face with my hands to shield my eyes from the glorified scene. I looked upon it as one but half awakened. Before us spread a lake as smooth as glass, but flooded with golden glory caught from the very heavens that made it look like a sea of molten gold. The blossom and fruit-bearing trees grew to its very border. Far, far away across its shining waters arose the domes and spires of what seemed to be a mighty city. Many people were resting upon its flowery banks, and on the surface of the water were boats of wonderful structure, filled with happy souls and propelled by unseen powers.
         Above we saw a band of singing cherubs, floating high overhead. "Glory and honor!" sang the child voices. "Dominion and power!" caught up and answered the voices of the multitudes below, "be unto Him who sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb forever!"
         We stood upon the margin of the lake; my cheeks were tear-bedewed, and my eyes were dim with emotion. I felt weak as a little child, but, oh, what rapture, what joy unspeakable filled and overmastered me! Was I dreaming? Or was it indeed but another phase of the immortal life?
         As we watched, groups of children played around in joyous freedom and there were happy shouts of laughter that echoed over the lake. No fear of harm or danger; no dread of ill, or anxiety lest a mishap occur--security and joy and peace! "This is a blessed life," I said as we stood watching the sports of the happy children.
         "I often think how we were taught to believe that Heaven was where we would wear crowns of gold and stand with harps always in our hands! Our crowns of gold are the halos His blessed presence casts about us; and we do not need harps to accentuate our songs of praise. We do see the crowns and hear the angelic harps when and as God wills it, but our best worship is to do His blessed Will," said Mae as we turned to go.
         As we walked she told me of the history of her years in Heaven--her duties, her joys, her friends, her home. I found her home was quite distant from our own--far from the spires of the great city across the lake. But she added, "What is distance in Heaven? We come and go at will. We feel no fatigue, no haste, experience no delays; it is blessed, blessed."
         Not far from our home we saw a group of children playing upon the grass, and in their midst was a beautiful great dog, over which they were rolling and tumbling with the greatest freedom. As we approached, he broke away from them and came bounding to meet us, and crouched and fawned at my very feet with every gesture of glad welcome.
         "Do you not know him, auntie?" Mae asked brightly.
         "It is dear old Sport!" I cried, stooping and placing my arms about his neck, and resting my head on his silken hair.
         He responded to my caresses with every expression of delight, and Mae laughed aloud at our mutual joy.
         "I have often wondered if I should not some day find him here. He surely deserves a happy life for his faithfulness and devotion in the other life. His intelligence and his fidelity were far above those of many human beings whom we count immortal."
         "Did he not sacrifice his life for little Will?"
         "Yes. He attempted to cross the track in front of an approaching train, because he saw it would pass between him and his little master, and feared the boy was in danger. It cost his life. He always placed himself between any of us and threatened danger, but Will he seemed to consider his especial charge. He was a gallant fellow; he deserves immortality. Dear, dear old Sport, you shall never leave me again!" I said, caressing him fondly.
         At this he sprang to his feet, barking joyously, and gamboled and frolicked before us the rest of the way home, then lay down upon the doorstep, with an upward glance and a wag of his bushy tail, as though to say, "See how I take you at your word!"
         "He understands every word we say," said Mae.
         "How silken and beautiful his long hair is!"
         "He has his bath in the river every day, and it leaves its mark on him also. Do you know, I think one of the sweetest proofs we have of the Father's loving care for us is that we so often find in this life the things which gave us great happiness below. The more unexpected this is, the greater joy it brings. I remember once seeing a beautiful little girl enter Heaven, the very first to come of a large and affectionate family. I afterward learned that the sorrowful cry of her mother was, `Oh, if only we had someone there to meet her, to care for her!'
         "She came, lovingly nestled in the Master's own arms, and a little later, as He sat, still caressing and talking to her, a remarkably fine Angora kitten, of which the child had been very fond, and which had sickened and died some weeks before, to her great sorrow, came running across the grass and sprang directly into her arms, where it lay contentedly. Such a glad cry as she recognized her little favorite, such a hugging and kissing as that kitten received, made joy even in Heaven! Who but our loving Father would have thought of such comfort for a little child!
         "She had evidently been a timid child; but now as the children gathered about her, with the delightful freedom they always manifest in the presence of the beloved Master, she, looking up confidingly into the tender eyes above her, began to shyly tell of the marvelous intelligence of her little pet, until at last Jesus left her contentedly playing among the flowers with the little companions who had gathered about her. Our Father never forgets us, but provides pleasures and comforts for us all, according to our individual needs."
         Then we parted, each to the duties of the hour.

Meeting the Master
         The following morning my brother said to me after an interesting hour of instruction, "Shall we go for the promised visit to Mrs. Wickham now?"
         "Indeed, yes!" I answered eagerly; so we set forth.
         We soon reached her lovely home and found her waiting at the entrance as though expecting us. After a cordial greeting to our friend, my brother said, "I will leave you together for that long talk for which I know you are both eager, and will go my way to other duties. I will find you later on at home."
         After he had gone, my friend took me over to her lovely home, showing me with great pleasure the rooms prepared for each beloved member of her earthly household still to come. Returning down the broad stairway, we entered a very large music room with broad walkways, supported by marble columns, running along three sides of it, on a level with the second floor. In this gallery were a number of musical instruments--harps, viols, and some unlike any I had ever seen elsewhere.
         "My daughter," my friend explained, "who left us in early childhood has received a fine musical training here, and is fond of gathering in her young friends and giving us a musical treat quite often." We re-entered from this room the reception hall opening upon the front veranda and outer steps. Here Mrs. Wickham drew me to a seat beside her and said, "Now tell me everything of the dear home and friends."
         Holding each other's hands as we talked, she questioning, I answering, things too sacred to be repeated here were dwelt upon for hours. At last she said, rising hastily, "I will leave you for a little while--nay, you must not go," as I would have arisen. "There is much yet to be said; wait here till I return."
         I had already learned not to question the judgement of wiser friends and yielded to her will. As she passed through the doorway to the inner house, I saw a stranger at the front entrance and arose to meet him. He was tall and commanding in form, with a face of indescribable sweetness and beauty. Where had I seen him before? Surely I had not met him since I came. "Ah, now I know," I thought, "it is St. John the beloved disciple." He had been pointed out to me one morning by the riverside.
         "Peace be unto this house," was his salutation as he entered. How his voice stirred and thrilled me! No wonder the Master loved him, with that voice and that face!
         "Enter. Thou art a welcome guest. Enter and I will call the mistress," I said as I approached to bid him welcome.
         "Nay, call her not. She knows that I am here; she will return," he said. "Sit thou a while beside me," he continued as he saw that I still stood after I had seen him seated. He arose and led me to a seat near him, and like a little child I did as I was bidden--still always watching the wonderful face before me.
         "You have but lately come?" he asked.
         "Yes, I am here but for a short time. So short that I know not how to reckon time as you count it here," I answered.
         "Oh, that matters little," he said with a gentle smile. "Many cling always to the old reckoning and the Earth language. How does the change impress you? How do you find life here?"
         "Oh," I said "if they could only know! I never fully understood till now the meaning of the sublime passage, `eye hath not seen nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him.' It is indeed past human conception," I spoke with deep feeling.
         "For them that love Him? Do you believe that all Christians truly love Him?" he asked. "Do you think they love the Father for the gift of the Son, and the Son because of the Father's love and mercy? Or is their worship ofttimes that of duty rather than love?" He spoke gently and reflectively.
         "Oh," I said, "you who well knew the beloved Master--who were so loved by Him--how can you doubt the love that He must inspire in all hearts who seek to know Him?"
         A radiant glow overspread the wonderful face, which he lifted looking directly at me--the mist rolled away from before my eyes--and I knew Him! With a low cry of adoration, I threw myself before His feet, bathing them with happy tears. He gently stroked my bowed head for a moment, then rising, lifted me to His side.
         "My Savior--my King!" I whispered, clinging closely to Him.
         "Yes, and elder brother and friend," He added, wiping away tenderly the tears stealing from beneath my closed eyelids.
         "Yes, yes, the chiefest among ten thousand and the One altogether lovely," again I whispered.
         "Ah, now you begin to meet the conditions of the new life! Like many another, the changing of faith to sight with you has engendered a little shrinking. That is all wrong. Have you forgotten the promise, `I go to prepare a place for you, that where I am ye may be also?' If you loved Me when you could not see Me except by faith, love me more now when we have really become co-heirs of the Father. Come to me with all that perplexes or gladdens you. Come to the elder brother always waiting to receive you with joy."
         Then He drew me to a seat and conversed with me long and earnestly, unfolding many of the mysteries of the divine life. I hung upon His words; I drank in every tone of His voice; I watched eagerly upon every line of His beloved face; and I was exalted, uplifted, reborn, beyond the power of words to express. At length, with a divine smile He arose.
         "We will often meet," He said, and I, bending over, pressed my lips reverently to the hand that still clasped my own. Then, laying His hands a moment in blessing upon my bestowed head, He passed noiselessly and swiftly from the house.
         As I stood watching the Savior's fast-receding figure, passing beneath the flower-laden trees, I saw two beautiful young girls approaching the way He went. With arms intertwined they came, sweet Mary Bates and Mae Camden. When they saw the Master, with a glad cry they flew to Him, and as He joyously extended a hand to each, they turned, each clinging to His hand, one upon either side, accompanied Him on His way, looking up trustfully into His face as He talked with them and apparently conversing with Him in happy freedom. I saw His face from time to time in profile as He turned and looked down lovingly, first upon one, then the other lovely upturned face, and I thought, "That is the way He would have us be with Him--really like children with a beloved elder brother."
         I watched them till the trees hid them from my sight and I passed softly through the house to the beautiful entrance at the rear. Just before I reached the door I met my friend Mrs. Wickham. Before I could speak she said, "I know all about it. Do not try to speak; I know your heart is full, I will see you very soon--there, go," and she nudged me gently to the door.
         How my heart blessed her--for it indeed seemed sacrilege to try to talk on ordinary topics after this blessed experience. I did not follow the walk but went across the flowery turf beneath the trees until I reached home. I found my brother sitting upon the veranda, and as I ascended the steps he arose to meet me. When he looked up into my face, he took both my hands into his for an instant, and simply said, very gently, "Ah, I see. You have been with the Master!" and stepped aside almost reverently for me to enter the house. I hastened to my room, and dropping the draperies behind me at the door, I threw myself upon the couch, and with closed eyes lived over every instant I had spent in that hallowed presence. I recalled every word and tone of the Savior's voice and fastened the instructions He had given me indelibly upon my memory. I seemed to have been lifted to a higher plane of existence, to have drunk deeper draughts from the fountain of all good since I had met "Him whom my soul loveth." It was a long, blessed communion that I held thus with my own soul on that hallowed day.
         When at last I arose, the soft golden twilight was about me, and I knelt by my couch to offer my first prayer in Heaven. Up to this point my life had been a constant thanksgiving--there seemed to be no room for petition. Now as I knelt, all I could utter over and over was, "I thank Thee, blessed Father, I thank Thee, I thank Thee!"
         When at last I descended the stairs, I found my brother standing in the great flower room. "Oh what a life! What a divine life!" I whispered to him.
         "You are only in the first pages of its record," he said. "Its blessedness must be gradually unfolded to us, or we could not, even here, bear its dazzling glory."

A Visit with a Young Friend
         The next day, my brother being away upon an important mission, I started out alone to see if I might find the dear young friends of whom I had caught a fleeting glimpse the day before. I knew all things were ordered aright in that happy world and that sooner or later I should find them again; yet I hoped it might be very soon.
         I thought again of that happy light on their faces as they had met the beloved Master, and I had become so absorbed in these thoughts that I was oblivious even to the beautiful world around me. Suddenly I heard someone say, "Surely that is Mrs. Springer!" and looking up I saw sweet Mary Bates a few steps away, regarding me intently. I cried joyfully, "My precious Mamie!" She flew into me, and holding me in her arms, drew my head to her shoulder in the old caressing way, almost sobbing in her great joy.
         "How did you know I was here, Mamie?"
         "The Master told me," she said softly. "Mae had already told me, and we were on our way to find you when we met Him and He told us He had just left you. Then we knew that we must wait a little," she said reverently.
         How my heart thrilled! He had thought about me, had spoken of me, after we parted. I longed to ask her what He had said, but dared not. Seeming to divine my thoughts she continued, "He spoke so tenderly of you, and said we must be with you much. Mae had work to do today and she has already seen you once, so I came alone. She may be here later on. May I stay a long time with you? There is so much to tell you, so much to ask about!"
         "Indeed you may. I had started out to find you when we met. Come, dear child, let us return home at once." So clinging to each other, we set out toward my home.
         "What shall I tell you first?" I asked.
         "Everything about my dear friends and family--every individual member of our beloved household. Begin with my precious heartbroken mother. She has, I fear, a great unreconciled sorrow. If only she could spend one hour with me here, could know God's wisdom and love as we know it, how the clouds would lift from her life."
         "Yes, dear," I answered. "I always urged her to think of it in that light and to trust implicitly in the Father's tender care and never-failing love; but it is difficult for us to see beyond the lonely hearthstone and the vacant chair. Still, I believe she does begin to dimly grasp the comfort you are so eager to impart."

A Loving Look from the Master
         As we walked on slowly, conversing about the Earth-life, still in many other phases so dear to us, she asking eager little questions, I answering as best I could, we saw a group of four persons, three women and a man, standing a little to one side of the walk. The man's back was towards us, but we at once recognized the Master. The women were all strangers, and one of them seemed to have just arrived. The Savior held her hand as He talked with her, while all were intently listening to His words. We regarded the group in silence as we slowly passed, not hoping for recognition from Him at such a time, but just as we were opposite to them, He turned and looked upon us. He did not speak--but, oh that look! So full of tenderness and encouragement and benediction! It lifted us, it bore us upward, it enthralled and exalted us, and as we passed onward, the clasp of our hands tightened, and rapture unspeakable filled our hearts.
         After awhile I whispered half to myself, "Was there ever such a look?" Instantly Mary raised her head and looking at me questioned eagerly, "You think so too? I was sure you would. It is always just so. If He is too engaged to speak to you at the time, He just looks at you, and it is as though He had talked a long while with you. Is He not wonderful? Why could we not know Him on Earth as we know Him here?"
         "How long were you here before you met Him?" I asked.
         "Oh, that is the wonderful part of it! His was the first face I looked upon after I left the body. I felt bewildered when I first realized that I was free, and stood for a minute uncertain what to do. Then I saw Him standing just beside me, with that same look upon His face. At first I felt timid and half afraid. Then He stretched forth His hand to me, and said gently, `My child, I have come to take care of you; trust Me; do not be afraid.' Then I knew Him; instantly all fear left me and I clung to Him as I would have done to either of my brothers. He did not say much to me, but somehow I felt He understood all my thoughts."

No Night in Heaven
         And so we talked until twilight fell. Often the question has been asked whether there was night there. Emphatically no! What we call day was full of glorious radiance, a roseate golden light which was everywhere. There is no language known to mortals that can describe this marvelous glory. It flooded the sky. After a period much longer than our longest earthly day, this glory mellowed and softened until it became a glowing twilight full of peace. The children ceased their playing beneath the trees, the little birds nestled among the vines, and all who had been busy in various ways throughout the day sought rest and quiet. But there was no darkness, no dusky shadows--only a restful softening of the glory.

A Visit to the Grand Auditorium
         Not long after this my brother said, "We shall go to the grand auditorium this morning; it will be a rare day even here. Martin Luther is to talk. This will be supplemented by a talk from John Wesley. There may also be other speakers."
         It was not the first time we had visited this great auditorium, although I have not hitherto described it. It stood upon a slight hill, and the mighty dome was supported by massive columns of alternate amethyst and jasper. There were no walls to the vast edifice; only the great dome and supporting columns. A broad platform of precious marbles, inlaid in beautiful crystalline stones, arose from the center, from which the seats ascended on three sides, forming an immense amphitheater. The seats were of highly polished cedar wood; and back of the platform were heavy hangings of royal purple. An altar of solid pearl stood near the center of the platform. The great dome was deep and dark in its immensity, so that only the golden statues around its lower border were distinctly visible. All this I had noted from former visits.
         When we entered, we found the building filled with people eagerly awaiting for what was to follow. We soon were seated and also waiting. Soft strains of melody floated about us, from an invisible choir, and before long Martin Luther, in the prime of vigorous manhood, ascended the steps and stood before us. It is not my purpose to dwell upon his appearance, so familiar to us all, except to say that his great intellect and spiritual strength seemed to have added to his already powerful physical physique, and made him a fit leader still, even in heavenly places.
         His discourse would itself fill a volume, and could not be given, even in outline, in this brief sketch. He held us enthralled by the power of his will and of his eloquence. When at length he retired, John Wesley took his place, and the saintly beauty of his face, intensified by the heavenly light upon it, was wonderful. His discourse theme was "God's love," and if in the Earth life he dwelt upon it with power, he now swept our souls with the fire of his exaltation, until we were as wax in his hands. He showed what that love had done for us, and how an eternity of thanksgiving and praise could never repay it.
         Silence, save for the faint, sweet melody of the unseen choir, rested upon the vast audience for some time after he had left. All seemed lost in contemplation of the theme so tenderly dwelt upon. Then the heavy curtains back of the platform parted, and a tall form, about Whom all the glory of Heaven seemed to center, emerged from their folds and advanced towards the middle of the platform. Instantly the vast concourse of souls arose to their feet, and burst forth as with one voice into that grand anthem in which we had so often joined on Earth:

"All hail to the power of Jesus' name,
Let angels prostrate fall:
Bring forth the royal diadem,
And crown Him Lord of all."

         Such a grand chorus of voices, such unity, such harmony, such volume was never heard on Earth. It rose, it swelled, it seemed to fill not only the great auditorium but Heaven itself. And still, above it all we heard the voices of the angel choir, no longer breathing the soft sweet melody, but bursting forth into fervent songs of triumphant praise. A flood of glory seemed to fill the place, and looking upward we beheld the great dome ablaze with golden light, and the angelic forms of the no longer invisible choir in its midst, with their heavenly harps and viols, and their faces only a little less radiant than that of Him whose praise they sang. And He, before Whom all Heaven bowed in adoration, stood with uplifted face and kingly manner, the very God of Heaven and Earth. He was the center of all light and a divine radiance surrounded Him that was beyond compare.
         As the hymn of praise and adoration ceased, all sank slowly to their knees, and every head was bowed and every face was covered as the angel choir chanted again the familiar words,
         "Glory be to the Father, and to the Son and to the Holy Ghost. As it was in the beginning, is now, and shall ever be, world without end. Amen. Amen."
         As I looked upon the glorious form before us, clothed in all the majesty of the Godhead, my heart tremblingly asked, "Can this indeed be Christ, Whom Pilate condemned to die an ignominious death upon the cross?" I could not accept it. It seemed impossible that any man, however vile, could be blind to the divinity so plainly revealed in Him.
         Then the Savior began to speak, and the sweetness of His voice was far beyond the melody of the heavenly choir. And His gracious words! Would that I could, would that I dared, transcribe them as they fell from His lips. Earth has no language by which I could convey their lofty meaning. He first touched lightly upon the Earth-life, and showed so wonderfully the link of the light uniting the two lives--the past with the present. Then He unfolded to us some of the earlier mysteries of the blessed life, and pointed out the joyous beauties just before us.
         When He ceased, we sat with bowed heads as He withdrew. Our hearts were so enfolded, our souls so uplifted, our spirits so exalted, our whole being so permeated with His divinity, that when we arose we left the place silently and reverently, each bearing away a heart filled with higher, more divine aspirations, and clearer views of the blessed life upon which we were permitted to enter.
         I can touch but lightly upon these heavenly joys. There is a depth, a mystery to all that pertains to the divine life, which I dare not try to transcribe. I could not if I would, I would not if I could. A sacredness enfolds all that curious eyes should not look upon. Suffice it to say that no joy we know on Earth, however rare, however sacred, can be more than the faintest shadow of the joy that we there find; no dreams of rapture, here unrealized, approach the bliss of even one moment in that divine world. No sorrow; no pain; no sickness; no death; no partings; no disappointments; no tears but those of joy; no broken hopes; no mislaid plans; no night, nor storm, nor shadows even; but light and joy and love and peace and rest forever and forever. "Amen," my heart says again reverently, "amen."

Old Age Turns to Youth
         One day as I started to cross the lawn lying between my father's house and our own, I heard my name called in affectionate tones. I turned and saw approaching me a tall, fine-looking man, whose uncovered head was silvery white, and whose deep blue eyes looked happily and tenderly into mine, as he grew nearer.
         "Oliver!" I cried, with outstretched arms of welcome, "dear, dear Oliver!" It was the husband of my eldest sister, always dearly loved.
         As I went on, I met a group of happy young girls and boys of different ages, hastening past me. As soon as they saw me they all with one accord began to shout joyfully, "Grandma is coming! Grandma is coming! We are taking flowers to scatter everywhere! We are so glad!"
         With a great joy in my heart I hastened onward to my father's house. I found them awaiting me, full of joyful expectation. We set forth a goodly company to welcome this dearly beloved loved one to her home. As we approached the house we heard the sound of joyous voices, and looking in, we saw my sister standing in the room, her husband's arm around her, and the happy grandchildren thronging around them. But what was this? Could this radiant creature, with smooth brow and happy eyes, be the pale, wan woman I had last seen, so bowed with suffering and sorrow? I looked with eager eyes. Yes, it was my sister--but as she was full thirty years ago, with the bloom of health upon her face, and the light of youth in her tender eyes. I drew back into the shadow of the vines and let the others precede me, for my heart was full of a strange triumphant joy. This truly was the "victory over death" so surely promised by our risen Lord. I watched the happy greetings and the way she took each beloved one into her tender arms. When one by one she had greeted and embraced them all, I saw her, with a strange yearning at my heart, turn and look wistfully around, then whisper to my father, "Is not my little sister here?"
         I could wait no longer, but hastening to her side, cried, "Dearest, I am here. Welcome! Welcome!" She folded me to her heart and held me fast in her warm arms; she showered kisses on my upturned face, while I returned each loving caress, and laughed and cried for gladness that she had come at last. Oh, what a family reunion was that inside the walls of Heaven! And how its bliss was heightened by the sure knowledge that there should be no partings for us henceforth ever.
         I turned to Oliver and said, "Does she not look very young to you?" Then I added, noting his fresh complexion and his sparkling eyes, "Her coming has brought youth likewise to you."
         He looked at me intently, then said, "I wonder if you realize the change that has likewise come to you in this wonderful clime?"
         "I?" I asked, a little startled at the thought. "I confess I have not thought once of my personal appearance. I realize what through the Father's mercy this life has done for me spiritually, but as for the other, I have never given it an instant's thought."
         "The change is fully as great in your case as in Lu's, though with you the change has been more gradual."
         I felt a strange thrill of joy that when my dear husband should come to me, he would find me with the freshness and comeliness of our earlier years. It was a sweet thought, and my heart was full of gratitude to the Father for this further evidence of His loving care.
         So the hours passed and the time came for us to go. With light hearts we went on our way, and left them to spend their first hours in Heaven together.

The Master and the Children
         In one of my walks about this time, I chanced upon a scene that brought to mind what Mae had said to me about the Savior's love for little children. I found Him sitting beneath one of the flowering trees upon the lake shore, with about a dozen children of all ages clustered around Him. One dainty little tot, not more than a year old, was nestled in His arms, with her sunny head resting confidingly upon His bosom, her tiny hands filled with lovely water lilies that floated everywhere on the waters. She was too young to realize how great her privilege was, but seemed to be enjoying His care to the utmost. The others sat at His feet, or leaned upon His knees; and one dear little fellow with earnest eyes stood by Him leaning upon His shoulder, while the Master's right arm encircled him. Every eye was fixed eagerly upon Jesus, and each child appeared alert to catch every word He said. He seemed to be telling them some very absorbing story, adapted to their childish tastes and capacities. I sat down upon the grass among a group of people, a little removed from the children, and tried to hear what He was saying, but we were too far away to catch more than a sentence now and then, and in Heaven one never intrudes upon another's privileges or pleasures. So we simply enjoyed the smiles and eager questions and exclamations of the children, and gathered a little of the tenor of the story from the disjointed sentences which floated to us.
         "A little child lost in the dark woods of the lower world...." we heard the Master say, in response to the inquiring looks of the interested children.
         "Lions and bears...." came later on.
         "Where was his papa?" asked an anxious voice.
         We could not hear the reply, but soon a little fellow leaning upon the Savior's knee said confidently, "No unfriendly lions and bears up here!"
         "No," He replied, "nothing to harm or frighten My little children here."
         Then as the story deepened and grew in interest, and the children pressed more closely about the Master, He turned with a sweet smile --and we could see an increased pressure on the encircling arm--to the little fellow with the earnest eyes who leaned upon His shoulder, and said, "What, Leslie, would you have done then?"
         With a bright light in his eyes and a flush on his fair cheeks, the child answered quickly and emphatically, "I should have prayed to Thee and asked Thee to `close the lion's mouth,' as Thou didst for Daniel, and Thou wouldst have done it!"
         "Ah," I thought, "could C___ and H___ see the look the beloved Master cast upon their boy as he made his brave reply, they would be comforted even for the loss of their darling."
         Lost in these thoughts, I heard no more that passed, until an ecstatic shout from the little folks proclaimed how satisfactorily the story had ended and, looking up, I saw the Savior passing onward, with the baby still in His arms, and the children trooping about Him.
         "Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven." How well He understood! How much He loved them!

Visiting the City by the Lake
         I too arose and started homeward. I had not gone far before I met my brother Frank, who greeted me with, "I am on my way to the city by the lake; will you accompany me?"
         "It has long been my wish to visit the city. I only waited until you thought it wise for me to go," I answered.
         "You are growing so fast in the knowledge of the heavenly ways," he said, "that I think I might venture to take you almost anywhere with me now. You acquire knowledge for the very love of it--not because you feel it your duty to know what we would have you learn. Your eagerness to gather to yourself all truth, and at the same time your patient submission in waiting, ofttimes when I know the trial is great, have won you much praise and love from our dear Master, who watches eagerly the progress of us all in the divine life. I think it only right that you should know of this; we need encouragement here as well as in the Earth-life, though in a different way. I tell you this by divine permission. I think it will not be long before He trusts you with a mission; but this I say of myself, not by His command."
         It would be impossible for me to convey, in the language of the Earth, the impression these words of commendation left upon me. They were so unexpected, so unforseen. I had gone on, as my brother said, eagerly gathering the knowledge imparted to me, with a genuine love for the study of all things pertaining to the blessed life, without a thought that I in any way deserved commendation for so doing; and now I had won the warm approval of the Master Himself! The happiness seemed almost more than I had strength to bear.
         "My brother, my dear brother!" was all I could say in my deep joy, stopping suddenly and looking up into his face with grateful tears.
         "I am so glad for you, little sister!" he said, warmly clasping my hand. "There are, you see, rewards in Heaven; it does my soul good that you have unconsciously won one of these so soon."
         I would I might recall in detail the precious words of wisdom that fell from the Master's lips; I would that I might recount minutely the events of that wonderful life as it was unfolded to me day by day; but I can only say, "I may not." When I undertook to make a record of that never-to-be-forgotten time, I did not realize how many serious difficulties I would have to encounter; how often I would have to consider if I might really reveal this truth or paint that scene as it appeared to me. The very heart has often been left out of some wonderful scene I was attempting to describe, because I found I dared not reveal its sacred secret. I realize painfully that the narrative, as I am forced to give it, falls infinitely short of what I hoped to make it when I began. But bear with me; it is no fancy sketch that I am drawing, but the veritable life beyond, as it appeared to me when the exalted spirit rose triumphant over the flesh.
         My brother and I walked slowly back to the margin of the lake, where we stepped into a boat lying near the shore and were at once transported to the farther shore of the lake, landing upon a marble terrace--the entrance to the city by the lake. I never knew by what power these boats were propelled. There were no oarsmen, no engine, no sails upon the one in which we crossed the water; but it moved steadily onward till we were safely transported to our destination.

In a Heavenly City, but without Churches
         I was roused from my thoughts by the boat's touching the marble terrace, and found my brother already standing and waiting to assist me to the shore. Passing up a slight upward slope, we found ourselves in a broad street that led into the center of the city. The streets I found were all very broad and smooth, and paved with marble and precious stones of every kind. Though they were thronged with people intent on various duties, not an atom of debris, nor even dust, was visible anywhere. There seemed to be vast business houses of many kinds, though I saw nothing resembling our large mercantile establishments. There were many colleges and schools; many book and music stores and publishing houses; several large manufactories where, I learned, were spun the fine silken threads of manifold colors which were so extensively used in the weaving of the draperies I have already mentioned. There were art rooms, picture galleries, libraries, many lecture halls and vast auditoriums.
         But I saw no churches of any kind. At first this somewhat confused me, until I remembered that there are no creeds in Heaven, but that all worship together in harmony and love--the children of one and the same loving Father. "Ah," I thought, "what a pity that that fact, if no other in the great economy of Heaven, could not be proclaimed to the inhabitants of Earth! How it would do away with the petty contentions, jealousies and rivalries of the church militant! No creeds in Heaven! No controverted points of doctrine! No charges of heresy brought by one professed Christian against another. No building up of one denomination upon the ruins or downfall of a different sect! But one great universal brotherhood whose head is Christ, and whose cornerstone is love."
         I thought of the day we had listened in the great auditorium at home to the divine address of our beloved Master; of the bowed heads and uplifted voices of that vast multitude as every voice joined in the glorious anthem, "Crown Him Lord of all," and I could have wept to think of the faces that must some day be bowed in shame when they remember how often they have in mortal life said to a brother Christian, "Stand aside; I am holier than thou!"
         We found no dwelling houses anywhere in the midst of the city, until we came to the suburbs. Here they stood in great magnificence and splendor. But one pleasing fact was that every home had its large yard, full of trees and flowers and pleasant walks; indeed, it was everywhere, outside of the business center of the town, like one vast park dotted with lovely houses.
         There was much that charmed, much that surprised me in this great city, of which I may not fully speak, but which I can never forget. We found in one place a very large park, with walks, drives, fountains, miniature lakes and shaded seats, but no dwellings nor buildings of any kind, except an immense circular open temple capable of seating many hundred; and where, my brother told me, a seraph* choir assembled at a certain hour daily to render the oratorios* written by the great musical composers of Earth and Heaven. It had just departed, and the crowd who had enjoyed its divine music yet lingered as though loath to leave a spot so hallowed. *(oratorio: A composition for voices and orchestra, telling a sacred story without costumes, scenery, or dramatic action.)

*SERAPHIM [pronounced SER uh fim]: Angelic or heavenly beings associated with the prophet Isaiah's vision of God in the Temple when he was called to his prophetic ministry. (See Isaiah 6:1-7.) This is the only place in the Bible that mentions these mysterious creatures. Each seraph had six wings. They used two to fly, two to cover their feet, and two to cover their faces. The seraphim flew about the throne on which God was seated, singing His praises as they called special attention to His glory and majesty. (from Nelson's Illustrated Bible Dictionary)

         "We shall remember the hour," my brother said, "and come again when we can hear them."

The Great Forest and Plain
         Still passing through the park, we came out upon the open country, and walked some distance through flowery meadows and undulating plains. At length we entered a vast forest whose trees towered above us like swaying giants. The day was well-nigh spent--the day so full of surprises and happy hours!
         My brother walked by me, absorbed in silent thought, but with a touch beyond even his usual gentleness. I did not ask where we were going at that unusual hour, so far from home, for fear and doubt and questionings no longer vexed the quiet of my soul. Although the forest was dense, the golden glow of the twilight rested beneath the trees, and sifted down through the quivering branches overhead, as though falling through the windows of some great cathedral.
         At length we emerged from the forest upon a vast plain that stretched out into limitless space before us, and far away we faintly heard the thunder of the breaking waves of that immortal sea of which I had heard so much but had not yet seen. Except for their faint and distant reverberation, the silence about us was intense. It was a beautiful, memorable scene, which we gazed at for some time.
         When we turned to go, I was surprised that we did not return into the forest, but went still further out upon the plain. But when I saw that we approached the juncture of two nearby streams, I began to understand that we would return by way of river, instead of by forest and lake.

Floating Home on the River
         We reached the stream at length, and stepping into a boat that lay by the shore, we were soon floating with the current toward home. We passed through much beautiful scenery on our course that I had not seen before, and which I resolved I would visit in the future, when leisure from my daily duties would permit. Lovely villas, surrounded by beautiful grounds stretching directly up from the water's edge, lay on both sides of the river and formed a panorama upon which the eye never tired of resting. Toward the end of the journey we passed my sister's lovely home, and we could plainly see her and her husband drinking in the scene with enraptured eyes from the window of their own room.
         My brother and I were both silent the greater part of the time during our journey homeward, though each noted with observant eyes the signs of happy domestic life by which we were surrounded on every side. The verandas and steps of the homes we passed were full of their happy inmates; glad voices and songs could be heard constantly, and merry little shouts of laughter came from the throngs of little children playing everywhere upon the flowery lawns. Once I broke the silence by saying to my brother, "I have more than once been delightfully surprised to hear the familiar songs of Earth reproduced in Heaven."
         "These happy surprises do not come by chance," he answered. "One of the delights of this rare life is that no occasion is ever overlooked for reproducing here the pure enjoyments of our mortal life. It is our Father's pleasure to make us realize that this existence is but a continuation of the former life, only without its imperfections and its cares."
         "Frank, I believe you are the only one of four friends here who has never questioned me about the dear ones left behind; why is it?"
         He smiled a peculiarly happy smile as he answered, "Perhaps it is because I already know more than you could tell me."
         "I wondered if it were not so," I said, for I remembered well how my dear father had said, in speaking of my brother upon the first day of my coming, "He stands very near the Master," and I knew how often he was sent on missions.
         I lay down upon my couch on our return, with a heart overflowing with joy and gratitude and love beyond the power of expression. "I will reach the standard You have set before me, my Savior," I prayed, with hands clasped and uplifted to Him, "if it takes all of my life in Heaven and all the help from Your angels of light to accomplish it." With these words upon my lips, I sank into the blissful repose of Heaven.

The Healing of the Penitent Son
         The current of my life flowed on in the heavenly ways, until the months began to lengthen into years and my daily studies ascended higher in the scale of celestial mysteries. I never wearied of study, though much was taught and gained through the medium of observation in the journeys that I was permitted to take with my brother into different parts of the heavenly kingdom. I never lacked time for social pleasures and enjoyments, for there is no clashing of duties with inclinations, no unfilled desires, no vain striving for the unattainable in that life, as in the life of Earth. Many precious hours of intercourse were spent in my dear father's home, and sometimes on rare occasions I was permitted to accompany him to his field of labor and assist him in instructing those lately come into the new life with little or no preparation for its duties and responsibilities.
         On one occasion my father said to me, "I have the most difficult problem with which to deal that I have ever yet met in this work: It is how to enlighten and help a man who suddenly plunged from an apparently honorable life into the very depths of crime. I have never been able to get him to come with me to the river, where those earthly cobwebs would be swept away from his poor brain--his excuse always being that God's mercy is so great in allowing him inside Heaven's gates at all, that he is content to remain always at its lowest scale of enjoyment and life. No argument or teaching thus far can make him alter his decision. He was led astray by infatuation for a strange woman, and killed his aged mother in order to secure her jewels for this wretched creature. He was executed for the crime, of which in the end he sincerely repented, but he left life with all the horror of the deed clinging to his soul."
         "Has he seen his mother since coming here? Does she know of his arrival?"
         "No. She is entirely alone in this world, and it was not thought wise to tell her of his coming until his soul was in a better condition to receive her. He was an only child and does not lack the elements of refinement, but he was completely under the control of this vile though fascinating woman. It is said that she drugged his wine and incited him to do the dreadful deed while under its influence, because of her hatred for his mother, whose influence was against her. When he came from under the influence of the wine, he was horrified at what he had done, and his infatuation turned to loathing--but, alas, too late! He would not see her during his entire incarceration."
         "How long was he in prison?"
         "Almost a year."
         "Has he seen the Master?"
         "No, he begs not to see Him. He is very repentant, and grateful to be saved from the wrath he feels was his just punishment; but though he is conscious that his sin is forgiven, he does not feel that he would ever stand in the presence of the Holy One. And here, as upon Earth, each must be ready to receive Him. His presence is never given undesired. I have not yet appealed for higher help; my ambition is to lead these weak souls upward through the strength entrusted to me. Can you suggest anything that might reach him?"
         "His mother. May I bring her?"
         He thought a moment reflectively, then said, "A woman's intuition. Yes, bring her."

Frankness and Forgiveness in Heaven
         I soon was on my way. I found the poor woman, laid the facts gently before her and awaited her decision. There was no hesitancy upon her part; in an instant she said, "My poor boy! Certainly, I will go with you at once."
         We found my father waiting for us, and went immediately to the great "Home" where these "students" stayed. It was a beautiful great building in the midst of a park, with shaded walks and fountains and flowers everywhere. To one just freed from Earth, it seemed a paradise indeed; but to those of us who had tasted Heaven's rarer joys, something was wanting. We missed the lovely mansions, the children playing on the lawns, the music of the angel choir; it was tame indeed beside the pleasures we had tasted.
         We found the young man seated beneath one of the flower-laden trees, intently reading a book that my father had left with him. There was a peaceful look on his face, but it was rather the look of a patient resignation than of ardent joy. His mother approached him alone; my father and I remaining in the background. After a little time he glanced up and saw his mother standing near him. A startled look came into his face, and he arose to his feet. She extended her arms toward him and cried out pathetically, "John, my dear boy, come home to me. I need you!" That was all.
         With a low cry he knelt at her feet and clasped her knees, sobbing, "Mother! Mother!"
         She stooped and put her tender arms about him; she drew his head gently to her breast and showered kisses on his bowed head. Oh, the warm mother-love, the same in Earth and Heaven! Only the Christ-love can exceed it. Here was this outraged mother, sent into eternity by the hands of him who should have shielded and sustained her, bending above her repentant son with the mother-love with which her heart was overflowing shining upon him from her gentle eyes. I saw my father turn his head to conceal his emotion and I knew that my own eyes were wet.
         My father had explained to the mother that the first thing to be accomplished was to get her son to the river, so we now heard her say caressingly, "Come, John, my boy, take the first step upward for your mother's sake, that in time I may have the joy of seeing you in our own home. Come, John, with mother."
         She drew him gently, and to our great joy we saw him rise and go with her, and their steps led them to the river. They walked hand in hand, and as far as we could see them she seemed to be soothing and comforting him.
         "Thank God!" said my father fervently. "There will be no further trouble now. When they return he will see with clearer vision." And so it proved.
         After this, by divine permission, I became much of the time a co-laborer with my father, and thus enjoyed his society and his instruction much oftener than otherwise I would have done.

My Husband Comes
         One evening, some three years--counted by the calendar of Earth--after I had entered upon the joys and duties of the heavenly life, I sat resting upon my upper veranda, after a somewhat arduous journey to a distant city of the heavenly realm. From this part of the veranda I could see rare glimpses of the river throughout the overhanging branches of the trees. Here my brother sought me out, and throwing himself on a soft veranda lounge nearby, lay for a time motionless and silent. He had been absent on a mission for some time and he had not told me, as he sometimes did, where his mission had led him, and I had not asked him, feeling sure that it was best that what I should know would be imparted. My own duties of late had been unusually responsible, leading me daily into a distant part of the heavenly kingdom.
         At length, after a time of rest, my brother arose to a sitting posture, and regarding me for a moment in silence, said gently, "I have news for you, little sister."
         A thrill like an electric shock passed through me, and in an instant I cried out joyously, "He is coming!"
         He nodded his head, with a sympathetic smile, but did not at once reply. Then he said, "He was stricken suddenly while in the midst of work, while apparently in perfect health, and has not regained consciousness since; nor will he ever on Earth."
         I said, "May I go to meet him? What would you have me do? You know I yield to your wiser judgement even against the pleading of my heart."
         "I will not say, `do not go,'" my brother replied. "You shall accompany me if you wish. I think only that after the first bewilderment of the change has passed, after he has bathed in the waters of the River of Life, he will be better fitted for the delightful reunion that awaits him. You remember what the waters did for you and how bewildered and oppressed in spirit you were till you went with me that morning to the river."
         "You are always right, my brother, and I will yield to your wise advice, though my heart cries out to hasten at once to his side."
         He arose and bending over me, lightly dropped a kiss on my brow, and in a moment passed from my sight. I bowed my head upon my hand and gave myself to mingled sad and happy thoughts. Was my dearly beloved husband suffering? Oh that morning were here! How could I wait even that brief while for the sight of his beloved face!

The Touch of the Master's Hand,
and a Talk with Him
         Suddenly a soft touch rested upon my bowed head and a voice I had learned to recognize and love beyond all things on Earth or Heaven said, "Have I not said truly, though he were dead yet shall he live again? What are the years of separation, since the meeting is now at hand? Come now, let us reason a while together," the Master said, smiling down into my uplifted face. He took my extended hand into His own, and sitting down beside me continued, "Let us now consider what these years have done for you. Do you not feel that you are infinitely better prepared to confer happiness than when you first parted from him you love?"
         I nodded in glad affirmation.
         "Do you not realize that since you stand on a higher plane, with more exalted ideas of life and its duties, and in the strength of the Father, you two hence will walk upward higher together?"
         Again I gladly agreed.
         "Is the home life here less attractive than it was in the Earth life?"
         "No, no! A thousand times no!" I cried.
         "Then there is nothing but joy in the reunion at hand?"
         "Nothing but joy," I echoed.
         Then the Savior led me on to talk of the one soon to come, and I opened my glad heart to Him and told Him of the noble life, the unselfish toil, the high ideals, the unfaltering trust of him I loved. I spoke of his fortitude in misfortune, his courage in the face of sore trial and disappointment, his forgiveness of even malicious injury, and concluded by saying, "He lived the Christianity many others professed. He always outdistanced me in that."
         The face of the Master glowed as I spoke. And as He talked with me He led me on until my soul flew upward as a lark in the early morning. He unfolded to me the mysteries of the soul life that filled my heart with rapture, but which I might not here reveal. At length to my infinite surprise, I saw the rosy glow deepening across the sky, and knew that morning had dawned for me in Heaven. The Master rose, and pointing to the radiance, said, "By the time you are ready to receive them they will be here." With a smile and a touch that made a benediction, He departed.
         As I arose and stood with face uplifted to the coming day, I caught in the near distance the triumphant notes of the angels' choral song, and this morning as though in sympathy with my thought they sang, "He is risen! Hear it, ye heavens, and ye sons of Earth! He has arisen and has become the firstfruits of them that slept!"
         I lifted up my voice with joy, and joined their thrilling song; as they swept onward and the rhythm died away, I slowly descended the stairway and crossed the lawn whose flowers never crushed nor withered beneath our feet. I felt no haste, no unwanted excitement, nor unrest, though I knew he was coming, whom my soul had awaited all these years. The Master's presence filled me with calm and peace that nothing had the power to disturb.
         Soon thereafter I heard voices and steps. Yes, it is the same dear step which I had so often listened for in the old home life--the step that always brought gladness to my heart and sunshine to our home! It was his step in Heaven! I flew to open the doorway and in an instant was held close in the strong arms and to the loving, throbbing heart of my dear husband. Was there anything more for me that Heaven could give!
         My brother, with thoughtful care, passed onward to the upper rooms of the house, and for awhile we were alone together, we whose lives had run, so happily mingled through the long years of our mortal life. I drew him within the house and in the vestibule again he took me in his arms and drew me to his heart.
         "This is Heaven indeed," he said.
         We passed into the flower room and on its threshold he stood a moment, entranced with its beauty; but when I would have related to him its history, as my brother had given it to me, he said, "Not today, my dear; I have only eyes and ears for you today; all else in Heaven must wait."
         So we sat down and talked together as in the older days; the happy hours came and went; the day melted into the twilight glow before we realized it was half spent. Our brother Frank had come to us about noontide and together we had gone over the lovely home, had stood upon the broad verandas, and had eaten of the heavenly fruit. Then we all sat together where I had spent the hours waiting in the presence of the blessed Master. I told them how much that He had said to me, and how He had turned into triumphant rejoicing the hours which I had anticipated would pass in lonely waiting. The eyes of my dear husband were tear-filled, and he pressed my hand, which he still kept in his, in tender sympathy.

The Great Celestial Sea
         The days lengthened into weeks, the weeks into months, and those in turn crept into years; the duties and joys of Heaven grew clearer with each passing hour. Our home-life was perfect, though we looked forward with joy to the future coming of our son and his wife to make our ties complete. We had spoken often of going together to the great celestial sea, but the time never seemed quite ripe for doing so.
         But one evening I said to my brother, "I have a strange desire to go out to the sea, if you think it is wise that we should do so."
         "I am glad that it is your desire to go, as it is mine to have you. I was about to propose this blessed journey. I will not go at this time as it is best that you two should go alone."
         So in the quivering light of the glorious morning we started, full of a holy joy that together we might make this special journey. We entered and passed through the great forest, where the golden light fell through the branches and birds of gorgeous plumage and song were darting everywhere. As we drew near the sea we could hear the regular dashing of waves against the shore. Now there came bursts of triumphant song and harmony of many instruments of music. At length we emerged from the forest, and stood mute and motionless before the overwhelming glory of the scene before us. From our very feet sloped downward toward the shore a golden strand many hundreds of yards wide and extending out beyond the limits of our vision.
         And the sea! It spread out before us in a radiance that passes description in any language that I have ever known. The shining glory we caught in the roll of the waves, the blue tint of the waters of that sea which has no limits to its depths nor bounds. Upon its shining bosom we saw in every direction boats representing all nations filled with people looking with eager faces toward the shore, many in their eagerness standing erect and gazing with wistful, expectant eyes into the faces of those upon the shore.
         Oh, the people upon the shore!--A great mass of beautiful souls clad in the spotless garments of the redeemed. Many among them had golden harps and various instruments of music. Whenever a boat touched the shore and its inmates were welcomed by the glad voices and tender embraces of their loved ones in the throng, the harps would be held aloft, and all the golden instruments would sound. Then the vast multitude would break forth into the triumphant song of victory over death and the grave.
         "Do these people stand here always, I wonder?" I asked softly.
         "Not the same people," said a radiant being near us, who had heard my question. "But there is always a throng of people here--those who are expecting friends from the other life, and those who assemble here to share their joy. Some of the heavenly choristers are also continually here, but not always the same ones. You will notice that most of these who arrive are led quietly away by their friends, and many others are constantly joining the multitude."
         He passed onward to the shore, and left us rapt in wonder. We soon became interested in watching the reunions and found ourselves joining with rapture in the glad songs of rejoicing. Now and then a face we remembered seeing on Earth would be among the eager faces in the boats, but none that had been especially dear to us; still it made us notice more closely and sympathize more heartily with those who welcomed beloved friends. Now we would see a wife caught in the close embrace of a waiting husband; now a little child with a glad cry would spring into the outstretched arms of the happy mother; friend would clasp friend in glad reunion, and here an aged mother would be folded to the heart of a beloved child.
         As one more boat of strength and beauty came riding gracefully over the waves, we observed the tall figure of a man standing near the prow with his arms about a graceful woman who stood by his side. Each shaded with uplifted hand the splendor from their dazzled eyes, and scanned, wistfully and searchingly the faces of the crowd as the boat neared the shore. Suddenly with a great thrill of joy surging through my being, I cried out, "It is our precious son, and his dear wife! And they have come together!"
         In an instant we were swiftly moving through the throng that parted in ready sympathy to let us pass. And as the boat touched the shore, with a swift movement they were both beside us--the dear daughter already closely clasped to the hearts of her own happy parents who were waiting near the water's edge, while at the same instant we felt the arms of our beloved son enfolding us; soon thereafter we were all in each other's embrace. Oh what a rapturous moment was that! Our home-life in Heaven complete, no partings again forever! As we stood with encircling arms, scarcely realizing the unexpected bliss, the heavenly choir broke into song; and with uplifted faces radiant with joy, eyes filled with happy tears and voices trembling with emotion, we all joined in the glad anthem.
         The song arose and fell triumphantly as the vast multitude caught it up, and the surge of the waves made a deep undertone to the melody that increased its solemnity, as with bowed heads and full hearts we passed onward hand in hand; and the light that fell about us was purer, holier, more divine, than it had ever been before.

The Return
         The time came one day as I was in my lovely room that had really become to me a shrine, that I turned and lay down for an instant's rest. But strange thoughts and fancies crept into my brain, such as I had not known for years. I felt confused and bewildered and started up restlessly from my pillow, only to fall back again in doubt, and something akin to dread. What could it mean? Could the old unrest of Earth find place in this divine retreat? Then I heard unfamiliar voices.
         Someone said, "Her color is better than it has been for several days, I think."
         "Yes, there is no doubt but she is better today. There is really hope for her now, I am sure. But she came very near passing through the Gates."
         "Very near passing through the Gates!"--As though I had not passed through, and in returning left them so ajar that gleams of the heavenly radiance from beyond them will fall about my life forever!

About the Author:

         Rebecca Ruter Springer was born on November 8, 1832, in Indianapolis, Indiana, and died in 1904. She was the daughter of Rev. Calvin W. Ruter, a clergyman of the Methodist Episcopal Church. In 1850 she graduated from Wesleyan Female College, in Cincinnati, Ohio. On December 15, 1859, she married William McKendree Springer. Besides Intra Muros (or Within the Gates, 1898), she wrote Beechwood (1873, a novel), Self (1881, a novel), Songs of the Sea (1889, poetry), and Marcus and Miriam (1908).
         Her husband, William McKendree Springer, was born on May 30, 1836, in New Lebanon, Sullivan County, Indiana. From 1858-1862, he was a newspaper editor and correspondent. In 1859, the same year he and Rebecca were married, he was admitted to the bar. In 1862, he was named Secretary of the Illinois State Constitutional Convention, and in 1872 he was elected to the Illinois state legislature. In 1875, he was elected to the US Congress, where he served until 1895. During that time, he was chairman of several prestigious committees, including Ways and Means, Territories, and Banking and Currency. He was the author of the Springer bill, which organized the Oklahoma Territory and created a judicial system for the Indian Territory. He was also the author of the bill which admitted Washington, Montana, and North and South Dakota as states to the Union. He also was responsible for introducing a House resolution declaring the precedent of retiring from presidential office after two terms (though the constitutional amendment was not passed till many years later); this resolution was adopted by a large margin and contributed materially to keeping the widely believed dishonest President Grant from being renominated for a third term.
         From 1895-1899 (this was the time at which Rebecca wrote Intra Muros) he served as a US judge in the Northern District of the Indian Territories and was the chief justice of the US Court of Appeals in the Indian Territories. In 1900, he returned to Washington and resumed his law practice. He died in 1903.