A Child’s Dream of Heaven

A Child's Dream of Heaven By Wreno Bowers There was once two children, brother and siater were they. Together these two used to wander all day long through the fields and woodlands. They loved the birds, the bees, the but- terflies, and the flowers. They loved the big blue sky and the bright water, and above all they loved the Great Creator who made the beautiful, wonderful world. They used to wander along the banks of the river, among the wild roses. They marveled at the beauty of the flowers; they marveled at the height and blueness of the sky, and at the depth of the playful waters. When the butterflies came flitting through the draperies of virgin's-bower, and floated in raptur- ous flight about the river's bank— now high among the alder boughs, now low over the tops of the roses — they danced upon the flowery glade, like their fairy companions above them. And when the birds sang their songs of the joys of heaven, then sang they their songs of love. And when the sun was down, and the moon made long rays of shining silver down upon the world, they stood hand in hand at the window, and wondered at the beauty of things. They used to say, one to the other, Why was this display of charms which children never see, because they are in their beds? Wny was the night lovelier than the day, and softer than the dawn and the sunsets? Why did that shining star, more poetic than the sun, come to brighten all the shades? And why did the most talented of singing birds not rest like the others, instead of singing in the disquieting darkness? And they fell asleep wondering. So time went on and the children grew up together, and went hand in hand to the little school. Sometimes she helped him with his alphabet, and he helped her with her pictures. Often she would say to him, "When I grow to be a woman, I'm going to be an artist, and I'll paint the fairies, the butterflies, and the flowers." And he would say, "When I grow to be a man, I'm going to be a writer, and I'll write of the angels, the moonlight, and the roses." But while they were young, exceedingly young, the sister drooped, and all the rose-glow faded from her cheeks. She came to be so weak that she could no longer walk to the little school, and the brother walked sadly alone. And when he kissed the pale face on tbe bed, and placed a wild rose in her hand, a smile would come upon the face, and a little weak voice wouid say, "God bless my brother and the rose,"

A CHILD'S DREAM OF HEAVEN 113 And so the time came, ah, too soon! when the brother walked sorrowfully alone, and when there was no face on the bed, and when there was a little grave in the churchyard, not there before. And when the sun was down, the moon made long rays of shining silver down upon him as he knelt beside the grave, and the wild roses drooped their heads and shared his sorrow. He grew to be a young man, and he toiled with tireless pen, and the moon was shining into his room, making long rays down toward him as he wrote the story of the angels, the moonlight, and the roses. And he said, "God bless my darling sister and the rose." One night he stood at the window, where once the two had stood, and looked up into the tranquil heavens. The stars emitted quivering gleams in the depth of the velvet sky, and as a child he began to wonder, Who loves in those distant worlds? What shapes, what living things, what plants were there? Did his sister, and all his loved ones gone before, live in those worlds? Would he not some day meet them there? What could they do that he could not? What could they see that he did not know? Would not one of them some day come to unite the heavens and earth and bring them to a fulness of glory, and happiness and everlasting Love? Aind he fell asleep wondering. And while he slept, he dreamed about those worlds. He dreamed that, lying there in his solitary bed, he saw a shin- ing path open from the earth to the heavens, and people being carried up that sparkling road by angels. And all the stars opened, showing him those far-off lands, those worlds of light, where people were always happy. And he dreamed that he rose and was taken up that glit- tering path by angels, and when he reached the entrance of that glorified world, someone came out and hung about his neck and kissed him tenderly. He looked at the patient face that once had lain upon the bed and it was glorified and radiant, but he knew his sister among all the multitudes. She took him by the hand and led him away, down an avenue of light, to a beautiful city. They entered the city through a gate of pearl, and proceeded down a street of gold. On either side of the street were many wonderful mansions, and the people who lived in those mansions turned their beaming eyes upon them as they passed. The sun, nor the moon nor the stars, did not shine, but the city was radiant with the glory of God. And through the city flowed a river, transparent and sparkling, proceeding from the throne of God. As they walked along, hand in hand, he heard the ripple of the waters as the waves broke against the jeweled beach. And

114 IMPROVEMENT ERA he saw a host of children playing upon the hanks of the river, among the wild roses. When the butterflies came flitting through the draperies of virgin's-bower, and floated in rapturous flight over the river's bank — now high among the alder boughs, now low over the tops of the roses — they danced upon the flowery glade, like their fairy companions above them. And when the birds sang their songs of the joys of heaven, then sang they their songs of love. And when he awoke, the moon was shining into his room, making long rays of shining silver down upon him as he saw it through his tears. From that time on he looked upon those distant worlds as his future home; the place he would go to when his time should come and his earthly work was done. What a glorious thought it was, that he should some day meet his precious sister in the city of his Lord. Thus time went on and he grew to be a man whose hair was turning gray, and he was sitting in his chair by the fireside, heavy with sorrow, and with his face bedewed with tears, for his mother was no more. Again at night he saw the celestial light, and the city of gold with its wonderful mansions, and the beautiful river, and the host of children playing among the roses, and his mother, newly lost to him. And he said, "I can bear the parting from her, for she has gone to her Lord and Master, God be praised!" And when the sun was down, the moon made long rays of shining silver down upon him as he knelt beside the grave, and the wild roses drooped their heads and shared his sorrow. He came to be an old man, and his once smooth face was wrinkled, and his steps were slow and feeble, and he was a child again. So the time came when he could no longer stand at the window, and he lay upon his bed, and his children were standing around him. Then he raised his feeble hands toward heaven, and cried: "I see the light!" They whispered one to another, "He is dying." And his hands trembled, and his face lighted up with a halo of glory. "I see the light," he gasped, "and it is the light of glory." And he sank back upon his bed and died. And again he was carried through the gates of heaven by angels, who winged their way and cried, "Home — Home — Home!" And again the two walked together among the roses, on the banks of the river that flows from the throne of God. The moon made long rays of shining silver down upon his grave, and the wild roses drooped their heads in reverence. Kanias. Utah.