When I was a boy I used to think of Heaven as a glorious golden city, with jeweled walls, and gates of pearl, with nobody in it, but the angels, and they were all strangers to me.

But after a while my little brother died; then I thought of Heaven as that great city, full of angels, with just one little fellow in it that I was acquainted with. He was the only one I knew there, at that time.

Then another brother died, and there were two in Heaven that I knew. Then my acquaintances began to die, and the number of my friends in Heaven grew larger all the time.

But it was not till one of my own little ones was taken that I began to feel that I had a personal interest in heaven.

Then a second went, and a third, and a fourth; and so many of my friends and love ones have gone there, that it seems that I know more in Heaven than I know on earth.

And now, When my thoughts turn to heaven, it is not the gold and the jewels, and the pearls that I think of, but the loved ones there.

It is not the place so much as the company that makes Heaven seem beautiful.

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