A LITTLE girl, some nine years of age, was on a visit with her sister to some friends, and while there she had a dream, and a beautiful dream it was, and one which seems so real, and the impression of it takes some time to wear off the mind. The dream was about Jesus and heaven; I will relate it in the child’s own words, as nearly as I can.
On waking in the morning the little girl’s first words to us were, “I am so disappointed!” and, on being asked why, she said, “Oh, I do wish it had been real! “Little attention was paid to this, but on coming down stairs she sat so still and looked so thoughtful—unusual things for her—that we thought she must be ill. She neither wanted to eat nor to speak. At last she said, in answer to our questions, “No, I am not ill, but I want to be quiet and to think, for I have plenty to think about all the day. I thought when I was asleep I was at a door, and, looking in, saw someone sitting upon something like a chair; but still it was not a chair, for we had to go up steps to it. He beckoned me to Him; so I walked right down the room, right up to Him. He smiled and patted me on the cheek, and lifted me on His knee and kissed me.
“Oh, I did feel so happy, and there were so many little ones there about my size, and some less than I am. One little thing, just like―” (naming a little playmate), was there; and all had such beautiful white dresses on. So I looked at mine, and it was quite white too! There was not a spot on any dress. I never saw such white dresses as they were.
First one child came up to Him, and He patted it; then another, and He smiled at it. Not one came to Him but He did something kind; He did not turn one away; and they all looked happy, and not one of them tried to push another. Oh, it was so nice! It was real grand!
And the place!―it was the brightest-lighted room that ever I was in: brighter than the sun when it shines in the middle of the day; but there was no sun, for I looked all round. I could see nothing but brightness—just like gold.
Oh, I cannot tell you what a beautiful place it was; but Jesus was the best. I did nestle to His breast, and He looked so kindly at me.
Then the children began to sing, and I sang too; but I never heard any singing like it before.
“While we were singing I waked up, and oh, I was sorry. I do wish it had been real, for then I should always have been there, close to His bosom.” G. S.