I.

Ye worlds of light and life, beyond our sphere;Mysterious country! Let your light appear.Ye angels, lift the veil, the truth unfold,And give our seers a glimpse of that bright world;Tell where ye live, and what is your employ,Your present blessing, and your future joy.Say, have you learned the name, and tuned the lyre,And hymn'd the praise of Him—the great Messiah?Have love's emotions kindled in your breast,And hope, enraptured, seized the promised rest?Or wait ye still the resurrection day,That higher promise of Millenial sway?When Saints and angels come to earth again,And in the flesh with King Messiah reign?The spirits answered as they soared away—"We're happy now, but wait a greater day,When sin and death, and hell, shall conquered be,And earth, with heaven enjoy the victory."—Parley P. Pratt.

"They shall be gathered together as prisoners are gathered in the pit, and shall be shut up in prison, and after many days shall they be visited."—Isaiah 24:22.

The Lord God created all things "spiritually before they were naturally upon the earth." He created "every plant of the field before it was in the earth, every herb of the field before it grew." Before this "natural" creation "there was not yet flesh upon the earth, neither in the water, neither in the air;... but spiritually were they created and made according" to the word of God. In this second or "natural" creation all things were clothed upon by earthly element, or in other words, the spiritual was materialized so that it became discernible to the natural senses. The spiritual and the natural are, therefore, but different states of the same forms of life. In the natural world there are men, women, beasts of the field, fowls of the air, and vegetation in boundless and varied forms. These exist before the natural is added upon them; they exist after the natural is laid down by the death of the body.

In like manner we find in the spirit world men, women, beasts of the field, fowls of the air, and vegetation in boundless and varied forms. These things are as natural there as they are in earth-life. They appeal to spirit nature the same as the "natural" prototype appeals to the mortal senses; and this is why we may speak of our earth-known friends who are in the spirit world and of their surroundings in the manner of mortality.

And what a big world it is! Here are nations, tribes, races, and families much larger than in earth-life, and just as varied in all that made them different in mortality. Here, as in all of God's creations, like assemble, dislike keep apart; "for intelligence cleaveth unto intelligence; wisdom receiveth wisdom; truth embraceth truth; virtue loveth virtue; light cleaveth unto light; mercy hath compassion on mercy, and claimeth her own." The righteous in Paradise have no desire to mingle with the wicked in the regions of darkness; therefore they go there only as they may be called to perform some duty.

To the industrious there can be no true pleasure or rest in idleness; therefore, Paradise furnishes employment to all its inhabitants. A world of knowledge is open to them into which they may extend their researches. Thus they may continue in the ever-widening field of learning, finding enough to occupy their time and talents.

An arrival in the spirit world brings with him just what he is when he leaves mortality. The separation of the spiritual part of the soul from the earthly body does not essentially change that spirit. A person takes with him the sum total of the character he has formed up to that time. Mortal death does not make a person better or worse; it simply adds to him one more experience which, no doubt, has a teachable influence on him. At death, no person is perfect, even though he is a Saint, and passes into the Paradise of God. There he must continue the process of eliminating the weaknesses which he did not wholly overcome in earth-life. Death will not destroy the tendency to tell untruths, or change the ungovernable temper to one which is under perfect control. Such transformations are not of instant attainment, but are the result of long, patient endeavor.

As there are gradations of righteousness and intelligences in the spirit world, there must be a vast field of usefulness for preaching the gospel, training the ignorant, and helping the weak. As in the world of mortality, this work is carried on by those who have accepted the gospel and who have conformed their lives to its principles; so in the spirit world, the righteous find pleasant and profitable employment in working for the salvation of souls.

And as they work they must needs talk of the glories of the great plan of salvation, made perfect through the atonement of the Lord Jesus. That which they look forward to most keenly, that about which they talk and sing most fervently is the time when they also shall follow their Savior through the door of the resurrection which He has opened for them,—when their souls shall be perfectly redeemed, and they shall be clothed upon with a body of the heavenly order, a tabernacle incorruptible and immortal with which to go on into the celestial world.

Though the future is most glorious to these people, the past is also bright. The hopes of the future are well grounded on the facts of the past. An ever-present theme is that of Christ's first visit to the spirit world, when, having died on the cross, He brought life and light and immortality to the world of spirits, entering even into the prison house where the disobedient had lain for a long time, and preached the gospel to them.

And among these who gloried both in the past and in the future were Rupert and Henrik. Often they conversed on themes near to their hearts:

"It must have been a place of darkness, of sad despairing hearts, that prison house, before Christ's visit to it," said Rupert. "There, as in a pit, dwelt those who in earth-life had rejected the truth, and who, sinking low in the vices of the world, permitted themselves to be led captive by the power of the evil one. Noah in his day preached to them, but they laughed him to scorn and continued in their evil ways. Others of the prophets in their generations had warned them, but without avail; so here were found Satan's harvest from the fruitful fields of the earth."

"I can well imagine that long, long, night of darkness," added Henrik. "No ray of hope pierced the gloom of their abode. The prison walls loomed around and above them, shutting out any glimpse of heaven. These had rejected the truth, which alone can make men free. They themselves had shut out the light when it would have shone in upon their vision. They had chosen the evil, and the evil was claiming its own. Outside the prison were their fellows who had chosen to do the right, basking in the light of a clear conscience, enjoying the approval of the Lord. These faithful ones were going on to eternal perfection. How long would it take the prisoners, if they ever were released, to overtake those ahead? Between these was a great gulf fixed, which, in the ordinary order of things, could never be lessened or bridged."

"But at last the time of mercy and deliverance came. I remember how the events of the time have been described to me. Just before the coming of the Lord, a peculiar, indescribable tremor ran through this spirit world as if one pulse beat through the universe and that pulse had been disturbed. The spirits in prison looked in awe at one another, many crouching in terror, fearful that the day of judgment had come. The vast multitude of the ignorant wondered what the 'peculiar feeling' could mean. The righteous, who had been looking wistfully for some manifestation of the coming of the Lord, whispered to each other, 'The Lord is dying for the sins of the world!'

"Yes; the prophets of every dispensation had labored faithfully to prepare the world of spirits among whom they lived for the coming of the Lord and Savior. There were Adam, Noah, Abraham, with those who followed them; there were Lehi, Nephi, Mosiah, and the others of their race; there were the prophets who had lived among the lost Ten tribes; these had all been valiant in earth-life, and were faithful yet in the spirit world. The burden of their message in mortality had been the coming of Christ the Redeemer, and now they still looked forward with the eye of faith to Him who should die for the sins of the world, and who should deliver them from the bondage of the grave. They understood that the body of flesh which had been given them in mortality was necessary for their full salvation. Christ would bring to pass the resurrection, so that bodies would be restored to them, not corruptible as before, but perfected, immortal and glorious, a fit tabernacle for the immortal spirit with which to go on into the eternal mansions of the Father."

"But oh, that time, brother, when the Son of God was dying on the cross! While the earth was shrouded in darkness, and the bulk of it trembled in sympathy with the death throes of its Maker, the spirit world also received the imprint of the terrible event on Calvary as for a moment the whole spiritual creation lay in tense expectancy. The usual occupations were suspended. Speech became low and constrained. Songs ended abruptly, and laughter ceased. There were no audible sobs, neither sighing. Bird and beast were stilled, as if the end had come, and nothing more mattered. Then, in a little while, the tenseness relaxed, and everything went on as before, though much subdued. The righteous in the Paradise of God quietly gathered themselves together in their usual places of worship. They clasped each other's hands, and looked with trembling gladness into each other's faces. There was no fear here: they were ready."

"And then His actual coming! That which had been fore-ordained from before the foundation of the world was about to be fulfilled; that which had been the theme of the prophets from the beginning was at the door; that which the seers of all times and nations had beheld in vision was now to be realized; that about which poets had sung; that for which every pure heart had yearned; that for which the ages had waited, was now here! A feeling of sweet peace filled the righteous, which expressed itself in songs of praise and gladness. Thus they watched and waited."

"Then Jesus stood in their midst, and they beheld the glorious presence of their Lord. Then there came to their hearts a small, sweet, penetrating voice, testifying that this was Jesus Christ the Son of God who had glorified the name of the Father; who was the life and the light of the world; who had drunk of the bitter cup which the Father had given him; and had glorified the Father in taking upon Himself the sins of the world, in which He had suffered the will of the Father in all things from the beginning. The multitude fell down at his feet and worshiped."

"I have been told that as Jesus entered the prison of the condemned in the spirit world, a murmur of greeting welcomed Him. It was timid and faint at first, but it increased in volume and force until it became a shout.

"'Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors.'"

"'Hail, hail, to the Lord.'"

"'And the King of Glory shall come in.'"

"'Who is the King of Glory?'"

"'The Lord, strong and mighty.'"

"'The Lord, will not cast off forever; but though He cause grief, yet will He have compassion, according to the multitude of His mercies.'"

"'I will not contend forever, neither will I be always wroth.'"

"'Come and let us return unto the Lord: for He hath torn and He will heal; He hath smitten and He will bind us up.'"

"'I will heal their back slidings, I will love them freely; for mine anger is turned away.'"

"'Who is a God like unto Thee, that pardoneth iniquity. He retaineth not His anger forever, because He delighteth in mercy.'"

"'Say to the prisoners, Go forth; to them that are in darkness, show yourselves. I am He that liveth and was dead; and behold I am alive forevermore, anew: and I have the keys of hell and death.'"

"And thus the gates were lifted, and the King of Glory entered. And what a radiance shone in the gloom! The shades of darkness fled, the chains of error dropped asunder, the overburdened heart found glad relief, for the Lord brought the tidings of great joy to the spirits in prison, offering them pardon and peace in exchange for their broken hearts."

"Then they sang:

'"Hark, ten thousand thousand voicesSing a song of Jubilee!A world, once captive, now rejoices,Freed from long captivity.Hail, Emanuel! Great Deliverer!Hail, our Savior, praise to thee!Now the theme, in pealing thunders,Through the universe is rung;Now in gentle tones, the wondersOf redeeming grace is sung."'

"For three days, as counted by earth-time, the Redeemer ministered in this spirit world, preaching the gospel, giving instructions, and making plain the way of His servants to follow. Joy and gladness filled many hearts. Then, when the time had fully come, the great Captain of Salvation led the way against the enemy of men's souls. He laid low the Monster that had for ages kept grim watch at the Gates of Death. He broke through the grave to the regions of life and light and immortality. The Hope of Ages thus went forth conquering; and those who followed Him through the resurrection from the dead sang:

"'Death is swallowed up in victory! O, death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?'"

"Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. For he that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting."—Gal. 6:7, 8.

In the spirit world are Rupert, Signe, Henrik, Marie, Rachel and all our friends in their time and place. These are employed in joyous activity, as they see their field of usefulness continually widen. Rupert had done a great work before the others had come. He had preached the gospel to many people, mostly his ancestors, among whom there had been at the time of his arrival among them an awakening and a desire for the truth. He had traced his family back to those who on earth had been known as the Pilgrim Fathers, thence through many generations to the Norsemen of northern Europe. His wife's family he had also searched out, and he had discovered, greatly to his delight, that her family and his met in a sturdy, somewhat fierce, Viking chief. Rupert had sought him out, and had told him of Christ and His gospel—and the Viking had been willing to be taught. When Signe had come, Rupert had brought her to visit her many-times-great-grandmother, who was a beautiful flaxen-haired, blue-eyed woman, whom Signe herself somewhat resembled.

Then when Rupert met and became acquainted with Henrik, Marie, and Rachel, he told them of what he had done, and how that their vicarious work for the dead had fitted so nicely in with his preaching, in that many of those for whom they had been baptized were those whom he had converted. "We have been working in harmony and in conjunction," exclaimed Rupert, "and God's providence is even now clearly justified." What joy was there when Henrik and his friends met those for whom they had performed the necessary earthly rites! Many of these had long ago believed the gospel, and their hearts had been turned to their children—their descendants living on the earth—that they would remember their fathers who had gone before; and these were overjoyed when they met their "saviors," as they called them. Then, there were others who had not accepted the work done for them, and these were, naturally, not so enthusiastic in their greetings. Others there were who were yet in ignorance of Christ, of His plan of salvation, and the work that had been done for them. These would have to be taught and given a chance to accept or reject what had been done.

"You enjoy a happiness that does not come to me," said a brother to Henrik, "in that you receive the love and joyous greetings of those for whom you did work in mortality."

"Had you no opportunity to do such work?" asked Henrik.

"Yes; but I had no names of ancestry, and the truth is, I did not try to get any."

"You did not do all in your power?"

"No; I was careless in the matter."

"If you had only tried, the way would have been opened. That is a true principle. We do not know what regions of usefulness lie before us if we do no exploring."

Signe and Rachel were closely associated, and they performed missions together to their less enlightened sisters whose condition was not so favorable. These were of the frivolous and foolish women who had been taken captive by earthly things. All their treasures had been of earth, so on earth they had to be left, for none could be taken into the spirit world; these, therefore, were poor indeed. They had nothing with which to occupy themselves: in earth-life, wealth, fashion, the gratification of depraved appetites and passions, and the pampering of worldly vanities had been their chief concern; and now that earthly things were no more, these women were as if lost in a strange world, having no sure footing, groping about in semi-darkness, hungering and thirsting, but finding no means by which they might be satisfied. They laughed and appeared to make merry because it was their nature so to do, but their laugh was empty, and their merriment rang hollow and untrue.

"I am more than ever thankful," said Signe to Rachel when they had labored long with a group of frivolous women, "that the gospel reached us in earth-life."

"And that we accepted it," added Rachel.

"Yes; many of these sisters of ours are not evil; they are just weak,—empty of good. Their earthly training was at fault. And then some of them have told me that they were very much surprised to find that death had not worked a transformation in them: they have still the same feelings, desires and thoughts as before."

"Some foolish things were taught in earth-life," said Rachel, "one of them being deathbed repentance. Common sense, if not reason, ought to have told us that a change of heart coming when a person is in full possession of his faculties is far better than the confessions made in fear of death. Repentance should have come further back, for the sooner we turn about on the right way, the further we get on the road to perfection."

Rachel finished her little speech with a smile—the simple sweet smile, fixed into her nature for all time. A strange sister came up to her, who was greeted pleasantly.

"I want to know more of you two," she said. "There is something about you different from me or my mates. When you mix with us and talk with us, I can feel it, but I don't know what it is. You appear to me to be, lilies-of-the-valley among weeds—yes, that's it."

"And isn't a weed just a useful plant grown wild?" asked Signe. "All it needs is careful cultivation. Come with us as we walk along. We shall be pleased to talk with you. We are not very wise, but we may always ask the brethren who are wiser, for more light."

And so these three went slowly along the beautiful paths of spirit-land, conversing as they went. The hazel eyes of the brown-haired stranger opened in wide astonishment at what her sisters told her. Sometimes she asked questions, sometimes she shook her head in disbelief. She had been a "worldly" woman, she told them, never thinking that there would be any life other than the one she was living while on the earth; and so she had shaped her daily conduct by that narrow standard. Her earth-life had ended sadly, and existence had been bitter ever since, "Restless and hopeless, I have wandered for a long time," she said. "I have seen you two a number of times and have heard you talk to the women. Your words seemed to bring to me a glimpse of something better, but I never had the courage to speak to you until now."

Signe put her arms around her, drew her close, and kissed her cheek. "Let us do you all the good we can," she said. "We are going now to attend a meeting where my husband is to speak. Come with us."

Rachel linked her arm into that of the stranger's who willingly accompanied them. "Is your husband also a preacher?" she asked of Rachel.

"I have no husband," was the reply. "I did not—I mean, he did not find me, has not found me yet." Rachel was somewhat confused but she smiled as ever.

"She means," explained Signe, "that she did not marry while in earth-life, for the very good reason that she had no chance—"

"None such that I could accept," added Rachel. Then as the newly-found friend looked at her inquiringly, she continued:

"I have always believed, and I believe now, that I have a mate somewhere, but he has not yet been revealed. Frequently I asked the Lord about it in earth-life, and the answer by the spirit always was 'Wait, patiently wait'; so I am still waiting."

"And you still have faith," asked the stranger, "that the God of heaven will answer your prayers and bring about all things for the best?"

"Why, certainly."

"I wish I could believe that. Had I in earth life had some such belief to anchor to, perhaps I would not have made so many mistakes. I married twice, and they were both mistakes. The one chance I had of getting a man—I mean, one who does not belie the word—I threw away, because he was poor in worldly goods; but I suffered through my foolish errors.... I have heard of people praying about many things, but never have I heard of the Lord being asked about love affairs."

"That may be true," said Signe; "and it shows how foolish we were. Why should people importune the Lord about small trials and petty ailments, and at the same time neglect to ask His guidance on matters of love and marriage which make or mar one's life?"

There seemed to be no immediate answer to this query, so the three passed along in silence. Presently the newcomer spoke again:

"I am getting more light and hope since I associate with you two. I believe my faith is being kindled, and O, it feels so good to get a little firm footing."

"Yes, dear sister," said Rachel. "The tangled threads of earth-life are not all straightened out yet. It will take time, and we must have patience."

Arriving at the place of meeting, the three women took positions near the platform upon which the speakers sat. Rupert was the principal speaker. He began by telling his listeners something about his experiences in earth-life. He spoke of his boyhood days, of the trials and difficulties he had encountered, and how near he had come to being lost to all good. Then he told how the Lord had rescued him, and brought him to a knowledge of the gospel of salvation. "And the Lord's chief instrument in this work of rescue," the speaker said, "was a beautiful, good woman, who became my wife. O, you women, what power you have for good or evil! See to it that you use your powers for the purposes of good."

Rachel smiled at Signe while they listened, for Rupert's and Signe's story was quite familiar to her. All the time Rupert had been speaking, the woman who had come with them sat as if spellbound, her big eyes fixed on the speaker. When Rupert closed, Signe said to her friend:

"That is my husband. Let us go up to him; he will be glad to meet you."

But the woman drew back as if afraid. "I can't," she whispered. "Forgive me, but I must go"—and with a faint cry she retreated and disappeared in the crowd, the two women looking after in wonder and astonishment.

Just then Rupert stepped up to them. Seeing their wonder, he asked the reason. Signe explained.

"I think I can guess who it was," said Rupert. "Well, well," he murmured as if to himself, "I had nearly forgotten her."

"Yes, I believe it was she," added Signe.

"Was who?" inquired Rachel.

But Rupert stopped any reply that his wife might wish to make by interrupting with:

"I saw an impressive sight not long ago—Come let us be getting on our way home, and I shall tell it to you."

They were willing to listen as they journeyed. "We were out," began Rupert—"a brother and I—getting some information needed in one of the temples on earth for a brother who had gone as far as he could with his genealogy. As we were talking to a group of sisters a man rushed in upon us. With quick, eager words he asked us if we had seen someone whom he named and described. At the sight of him, one of the women shrunk back as if to hide in the crowd, but he saw her, and exclaimed:

"'Is that you? Yes—Oh, have I found you at last!'"

"The sister put forth her hand as if to ward him off, as he pressed through the crowd to her. 'How did you get here?' she asked. 'Keep away—you are unclean—keep away.'

"He paused in some astonishment at this reception. Then he pleaded with her to let him accompany her; but she retreated from him, crying, 'You are unclean; do not touch me.'

"'Yes,' he acknowledged, 'I suppose I have been a sinner; but listen to my justification: I sinned to drown my sorrow when you died. I, also, wanted to die. My heart was broken—I could not stand it—it was because I loved you so—'

"'No; you did not love me. Love is pure—made purer by sorrow. Had you truly loved, you would not have sinned so grievously. Your sorrow needed to be repented of. Sorrow cannot be drowned in sin—no, no; go away. Please go; you frighten me.'

"The man stood rigid for some time, and the expression on his face was something terrible to see. The cold, clear truth had for the first time burst upon him to his convincing. He had a 'bright recollection of all his guilt,' and his torment was 'as a lake of fire and brimstone.' The woman, recovering somewhat from her fright, stood before him with innocent, clear-shining eyes, with half pity and half fear showing in her beautiful countenance—for the woman was beautiful. The man stood for a moment, which seemed a long time to all who witnessed the scene, then his head dropped, his form seemed to shrivel up as he slouched out of our company and disappeared from sight."

There was silence. Then Rupert added, "And yet some people tried to make us believe that there is no hell."

Rachel, even, forgot to ask further questions regarding the identity of the woman with hazel eyes and auburn hair, for just then Henrik and Marie appeared. With them was another woman, and the three were so preoccupied that they were oblivious to all others.

"You are too late for the meeting," said Rupert.

"I did intend to get there in time," replied Henrik, "but don't you see who is here?"

Rupert did not recognize the woman who stood by Marie with arms about each other, but Signe cried in joyous greeting, "Clara, Clara, is that you?"

"This is Clara," said Marie to Rupert, "she who came to Henrik after I left him,—who helped him so much, and who was so good to my children. She has just come, and has brought us much good news from them. I am so glad." Marie's arm drew tight around the newcomer as she kissed her cheek.

"I, also, am glad to welcome you," said Rupert. "Brother Henrik," he added, "your excuse for non-attendance at our meeting is accepted."

"The Lord ... will fulfill the desire of them that fear him; he will also hear their cry."—Psalms 156:19.

Rachel found continual delight in all the wonders of spirit-land. Her circle of acquaintances enlarged rapidly, as those for whom she had done temple work were glad to know her, and to know her was to love her. These brought her in touch with many others; thus her sphere of usefulness extended until she, too, could say that she was busier than ever in joy-giving activities.

Sometimes Rachel went on what she called "excursions of exploration." Usually she went alone, for the habit of doing things of herself still clung to her. Frequently, in the throngs of people with whom she mingled, she was accosted by someone who recognized her. Rachel did not remember faces easily, but (she was on one of her excursions) she knew this woman who touched her on the arm, and said:

"You are Sister Rachel, are you not?"

"Yes; and you—yes, I know you. I am glad to meet you. How are you? Has the Lord shown you,—has He satisfied you? You see I remember you well."

The woman showed her gladness at Rachel's recognition. "The Lord has shown me abundantly and graciously," she replied; "but come with me away from the crowd. I shall be pleased to tell you all about it." Rachel accompanied the woman, who led her out into some quieter streets, thence to a beautiful home under tall trees. Flowers bloomed and birds sang in the garden. The two women seated themselves by a playing fountain.

"I am glad you have not forgotten me. My name you may not remember—it is Sister Rose."

"Your face, dear sister, your beautiful face marked with that deep sorrow, no one could forget;" said Rachel, "but now the sorrow is gone, I see, and the beauty remains."

Sister Rose took the other's hand caressingly. "That day in the temple," she said, "I came there as a place of last resort. I was suffering, and had tried everything that I could think of to ease my troubled soul. I had prayed to God to give me some manifestation regarding my boy. I came to the temple to get a great favor, and I obtained a blessing. Instead of receiving some miraculous manifestation, you came to me and led me gently to a seat by ourselves. And there you talked to me. It was not so much what you said, but the spirit by which you said it that soothed and quieted and rested me. You repeated to me some verses, do you remember? I had you write them out, and I committed them to memory."

"Do you remember them yet?"

"Listen:

"Thou knowest, O my Father! Why should IWeary high heaven with restless prayers and tears!Thou knowest all! My heart's unuttered cryHath soared beyond the stars and reached Thine ears.Thou knowest—ah, Thou knowest! Then what need,Oh, loving God, to tell Thee o'er and o'er.And with persistent iteration pleadAs one who crieth at some closed door."

"That day I went away comforted and strengthened. Do you recollect?"

"Yes; but what was your trouble? I do not remember that."

"My son, my only child, was taken so cruelly from me. He was the hope of my life, and when he answered the call to go on a mission to the islands of the sea, I let him go gladly, because it was on the Lord's business. Then some months later the news came that he had died. I was crazed with grief. I could not understand why the Lord would permit such a thing to take place. Was my boy not in His service? Why did not the Lord take care of His own?"

"And so you suffered, both because of your loss and because of your thoughts," said Rachel. "Poor sister,—but now?"

"He is with me now, and it has all been explained. We live in this house. Do you care to hear the story?"

"If you desire to tell it, yes."

"You seem so near and dear to me that I may tell it to you. My boy, while on his mission, was tempted. He has told me all about it—he was tempted sorely. He was in great danger, and so the Lord, to prevent him from falling into the mire of sin, permitted him to be taken away. They brought his lifeless body home to me, but his spirit went back to its Maker pure and unspotted from the sins of the world,—and thus I found him here, a big, fine-looking man as he was. You ought to see him."

"Mother," someone called from the direction of the house.

"That is he now," said the mother, rising.

"Mother, where are you? Oh!" the son exclaimed as he caught sight of the two women. He came up to them and rested his arm tenderly on his mother's shoulder. He was big and handsome, and Rachel's eyes dropped before his curious gaze.

"David, this is Sister Rachel, whom I first met in earth-life in the temple. I think I have told you about her and what a comfort she was to me."

"I am very glad to know you," said he, as he clasped Rachel's hand. Then there was a pause which promised to become awkward, at which David said:

"Mother, I want to show you something in the back garden. You know I have been experimenting with my roses. I believe I have obtained some wonderful color effects. You'll come also?" he asked Rachel.

The three walked on together into the garden where David exhibited and explained his work. When, at length, Rachel said it was time she was going, the mother urged her to come again.

"I'm going along with Sister Rachel to her home, and to find out where she lives," explained David, as he stepped along, unbidden, by Rachel's side.

And so these two walked side by side for the first time. They talked freely on many topics, she listening contentedly. They smiled into each other's eyes, and at the end of that short journey, something had happened. True love had awakened in two hearts. Through all the shifting scenes of earth-life, nothing like this had ever come to this man and this woman. Love had waited all this time. The power that draws kindred souls together is not limited to the few years of earth-life. While time lasts, God will provide sometime, somewhere, in which to give opportunity for every deserving soul. Here were two whose hearts beat as one; but one must needs have left mortality early in his course, while the other went on to the end alone. The reason for this was difficult to see by mortal eyes, but now—

"I'm coming again to see you," said David, as he prepared to depart. "I have so much to tell you; and you,—you have said very little. I must hear your story too."

"I have no story," said she. "My earth-life was very uneventful. I just seemed to be waiting—"

"Yes?"

But Rachel was confused. Her simple heart had spoken, and true to earthly habit, she now tried to cover up her tell-tale words; but he saw and understood, and as they stood there, his heart burned with a great joy.

"Good-bye," he said, as he took her hand, "may I come again soon?"

"Yes;" she answered. "I shall be pleased to see more of your beautiful flower garden."

This was the beginning of a courtship, not the less sweet because it had been postponed for so long; not the less real, from the fact that the man and the woman were spiritual beings. "Sin," said the apostle, "is without the body;" so love and affection are attributes of the spirit, whether that spirit is within or without a tabernacle of flesh. And this courtship did not differ to any great extent from all others which had taken place from the beginning of time. There were the same timid approaches and responses; the getting acquainted with each other, wherein each lover's eyes glorified every act in the other; the tremulous pressure of hands; the love-laden looks and words; the thrill of inexpressible joy when the two were together. Neither was this courtship exceptional. Among the vast multitude in the spirit world there are many who did not mate in the brief time allotted to them in the earth-life; therefore, congenial spirits are continually meeting and reading "life's meaning in each other's eyes."

Rachel, though she claimed to have no "story" to tell, interested David greatly in her account of how the Lord had chosen her as one of a family to become a savior on Mt. Zion. The work for the dead had not interested him. He, in connection with the youth of his time, had neglected that part of the gospel plan; and now, of course, he saw his mistake.

"Yes," David acknowledged to Rachel, "I see my error now, as usual, when it is too late to remedy it. You who were faithful rank above me here."

"Don't say that," she pleaded.

"But it is true. Your good deeds came before you here and gave you a standing. Some of the treasures you destined for heaven were detained here, and you are now reaping benefits from them. Do I not see it all the time? When we meet new people, you are received with delight—I am unknown."

"David, what comes to me, you partake of also, because—"

"Because you shall belong to me. Yes, dear one; that is the blessed truth. The Lord has brought us together, and all else should be forgotten in our gratitude to Him.... Rachel, we would have known each other in earth-life had I behaved myself. Our lives were surely trending toward each other, and our paths would have met. We would have loved and have wedded there, had it not been for my—"

"Say no more. Let us forget the past in thinking of and planning for the future. I am happy now, and so is your mother."

"And so am I."

"Whatsoever God doeth it shall be forever."—Eccl. 3:14.

David and Rachel were out walking when they saw another couple whose lovelike actions were noticeable. As they met, the couple stopped and the man said, "Pardon me, but we are somewhat strange in this new world. May we ask you some questions?"

"Let us sit down here together," suggested David, and he led the way to a place where they could sit quietly. "Are you in trouble?"

"Well, I hardly know," replied the man. "Anna and I are together, and perhaps we ought to be satisfied; but somehow we are not. There is something lacking."

"Yes?"

"You see, we left the earth-life, so suddenly—we were so poorly prepared for this." His companion clasped his arm as if to be protected from some impending danger. "We were boating on the lake, the boat overturned, and here we are.... We were to have been married the next day, but now—now what is our condition? We are not husband and wife; neither, I suppose, can we be, for we were taught back in that world from where we came, that there is no married condition here. Yet you two are husband and wife, are you not?"

"Not yet," replied David, "but we expect to be."

"I don't understand; you seem to know; teach us. May we be married here?"

David explained the principle of celestial marriage as it had been revealed to them in earth-life, and contrasted that doctrine with what was usually taught. "So you see," said he, "even if you had been married on that day appointed in mortality, it would have been only until death did you part. You have passed through death, and so, the contract between you would have come to an end, and you would not now be husband and wife."

"But you said that you two were to be married. How?"

"Had we been married in earth-life, it would have been for time and eternity, because it would have been performed by the authority of the Lord. What God does, is forever. Marriage must be solemnized on the earth. As our earth-days are past, we cannot go back, so the ceremony must be done for us by someone else living on the earth. Sister Rachel here, while in earth-life, did for thousands who had gone before what they could not do for themselves. Now, someone, in the Lord's own due time, will stand for her, and do for her what she did not do for herself."

The two new acquaintances listened attentively while David and sometimes Rachel instructed them on the principles of the gospel, and their application to those who were in the spirit world. They spoke to them of faith and repentance, principles which all men everywhere could receive and exercise. They explained the ordinance of baptism for the remission of sins, an earthly rite, which could be believed in and accepted by those in the spirit world, but would have to be performed for them vicariously by someone on earth. Marriage for eternity was also further explained.

"It is true," concluded David, "that in the resurrection there is neither marrying nor giving in marriage. All that must be attended to before the resurrection, which for all of us—luckily—is yet in the future. We know for a surety that if we do our part the best we know, the Lord will take care of the rest."

These four people did not part until David and Rachel had promised to meet their friends again soon, and continue the talk which had so favorably begun. When the two had left, David turned to Rachel and said:

"Did you see the lovelight glowing in their eyes when their hearts were touched with the truth?"

"Yes, as it did in yours when you were speaking."

"And in yours, too, my dear, when it was your turn."

"It's good to be a missionary—always a missionary, isn't it, as long as there is one being in need of guidance and instruction."

"It is very good, indeed, David."

"Rachel, glad news for us. We, you and I, are soon to follow our parents and our older brothers and sisters, up through the gates of the resurrection, which our Lord so graciously opened.... Yes, yes, it is true.... Into the celestial kingdom, with bodies of celestial glory and go on to our exaltation.... And, dear, the work is being done for us in the Temple of our God.... Yes, right now, it is being done. Come, Rachel, let us go and be as near as we can.... Yes, we have permission.... This is the Temple. God's messengers are here, and His Spirit broods in and around the holy place. That Spirit we also in common with mortality, may feel. You, Rachel, ought to be at home here, more so than I. Let us follow the man and the woman who are doing the work for us.... Do you see them clearly, Rachel?... Yes; we shall not forget them when they, too, come to us in the spirit, but we shall give them a welcome such as they have never dreamed of.... Now they are by the altar. Kneel here by me, Rachel,—your hand in mine, like this. Listen, can you hear? 'For and in behalf of,'... you and me.... It is done. We are husband and wife. You are mine for eternity, mine, mine.... O, Eternal Father, we thank Thee!"

David holds the fair form of his wife in his arms. He kisses her cheeks, her eyes, her lips. Then there is silence.

Freedom waves her joyous pinionsO'er a land, from sea to sea,Ransomed, righteous, and rejoicingIn a world-wide jubilee.O'er a people happy, holy,Gifted now with heavenly grace,Free from every sordid fetterThat enslaved a fallen race.Union, love, and fellow feelingMark the sainted day of power;Rich and poor in all things equal,Righteousness their rock and tower.Mountain peaks of pride are leveled,Lifted up the lowly plain,Crookedness made straight, while crudenessNow gives way to culture's reign.Now no tyrant's sceptre saddens;Now no bigot's power can bind.Faith and work, alike unfettered,Win the goal by heaven designed.God, not mammon, hath the worshipOf His people, pure in heart:This is Zion—oh, ye nations,Choose with her "the better part!"Crown and sceptre, sword and buckler—Baubles!—lay them at her feet.Strife no more shall vex creation;Christ's is now the kingly seat.Cities, empires, kingdoms, powers,In one mighty realm divine.She, the least and last of nations,Henceforth as their head shall shine.'Tis thy future glory, Zion,Glittering in celestial rays,As the ocean's sun-lit surgingRolls upon my raptured gaze!All that ages past have promised,All that noblest minds have prized,All that holy lips have prayed for,Here at last is realized.—Orson F. Whitney.

Back to Index Next