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 describe; I could not if I would, I would not if I could. A sacredness enfolds it 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 we there find; no dreams of rapture, here unrealized, approach the bliss of one moment, even, 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," and again my heart says reverently, "Amen." CHAPTER XI Jerusalem! Jerusalem! Thy streets of pearl and gold Are trod by the blest feet of them We knew and loved of old. Their voices full of calm delight Steal through the radiant air-- Jerusalem! Jerusalem! Our hearts are with them there! As the days passed I found my desires often led me to the sacred lake, sometimes alone, sometimes with one or more of my own family circle--my revered father and precious mother, my dear brother and sister, and many beloved friends both within and without the bond of consanguinity. It was always to me an inspiration and an uplifting. I never could grow sufficiently familiar with it to overcome the first great awe with which it inspired me; but I found that the oftener I bathed or floated and slept in its pellucid current, the stronger I grew in spirit, and the more clearly I comprehended the mysteries of the world about me. My almost daily intercourse with the dear ones of our home life from whom I had so long been separated, served to restore to me the home feeling that had been the greatest solace of my mortal life; and I began to realize that this was indeed the true life, instead of that probationary life which we had always regarded as such. I think it was the day after my return from my first visit to earth, that, as I had started to cross the sward 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 drew near. "Oliver!" I cried with outstretched hands of welcome, "dear, dear Oliver!" It was the husband of my eldest sister, always dearly loved.