Such is heaven.

Many believe that there exists a heaven and hell, a personal God, and a personal devil, and that when a person dies, s/he will go to heaven or hell. 

If they believe in a person called Christ, they will go to heaven and praise God forever, but if they do not, they will be cast by that God and by that Christ into hell—there to be tormented day and night in burning flames forever. 

Now let us look and observe heaven as it is— 

You gaze in delighted astonishment on the rapturous vision spread out before you. 

You find yourself standing on an open plain, and that upon which you stand looks and seems very much as ground does on the earth—it is soft and elastic to the tread—the grass, for it is covered with a beautiful carpet of living green, is similar to the most perfect grass on the earth, but you do not see, looking closely as you do, a single blade that is broken or decayed in the least. 

The loveliest flowers are growing amongst the grass profusely—flowers of all kinds, but they seem to be tastefully and evenly distributed.

You observe a few of the flowers that besprinkle this beautiful meadow, for the plain where you stand appears to be a meadow—pinks, pansies, roses, violets, daisies, buttercups, blue-bells, forget-me-nots, and a thousand other most beautiful flowers, and amongst all the flowers not one is imperfect, withered, broken—or decayed. 

The colours of the grass and flowers are intensely bright and far more beautiful than those of earth. 

To look at and stand in this meadow alone is heaven of itself. 

This meadow is but the least little part of heaven. 

This earth on which you stand—this grass and these flowers are the spirits—or spiritual forms—or the true, living, and everlasting earth, grass, and flowers of those which have yielded up their developed forms—or those which have died on earth. 

Every blade of grass that ever grew on the earth—every flower—every shrub—every tree—every form that was ever developed on the earth, the spirit of that form exists here within the spiritual spheres—more beautiful and more perfect—without a sign of death or decay.

This particular meadow in which you are standing is a large one, perhaps two miles wide by three in length, and as your eyes roam about its lovely surface you espy a flock of white sheep a short distance away, and then a number of beautiful cattle—red, white, black and speckled—some of the sheep are also black. 

You see a few goats here and there.

You observe that cattle and sheep live in heaven just as much as they do on earth, for earth exists merely to create and people heaven—for this and this alone—then how strange it is that we should think that nothing existed in heaven but ourselves!

These animals, which you are seeing are most perfect and beautiful, and there appears just enough of them to lend enchantment to the view.

You observe that this meadow is not crowded—or overstocked, but there is just the right proportion of animal life to give zest and great beauty to the scene. 

The heavenly spheres are so vast that they can—do—contain all the life that earth has ever yielded up, but the spheres are constantly increasing and enlarging as earth yields up its spirit year after year, season after season, and the spirits of countless millions of human beings also ascend to fill and enjoy them. 

You start, as you look down, and see a glittering snake or two gliding through the grass. 

You are not afraid, for the snake does not fetch its venom with it into the spiritual world—nothing can harm—or be harmed here, therefore, spirit-livs hate and fear nothing—the serpent is just as beautiful to them, as the dove—the lion, as the lamb.

You notice some bright-winged butterflies, and a few common flies with their beautiful green heads and gauzy wings—a few mosquitoes buzzing about here and there—a small body of gnats whirling and dancing in the air—among the flowers are bright-winged hummingbirds, and occasionally a little hillock where the ant has made his home.

The mosquitoes and flies here do not bite or sting, for their bodies do not need to be sustained by material substance—it is the spirit—or form, and not the material body that lives, and these creatures enjoy their existence as much as man enjoys his, and have just as good a right to it. 

Strange that man supposes all else perishes but himself. 

What an unattractive heaven it would be if there were nothing in it but the souls of men clothed in long white robes where they can neither marry nor be given in marriage, and their only employment singing everlasting praises to a personal male God.

Moving on you pause on the shore of a beautiful lake.

The lake appears to be about ten miles wide by fifteen long and there are elegant little boats dancing over its surface—the boats are in every conceivable form and shape—some are in the form of flowers—some like shells—others like hearts—there is no end to their varied and beautiful forms.

Some are very large—others small—but none so small that they cannot hold two forms, although many are small enough to hold two very small children—every boat bears two or more spiritual forms within it and they are as varied and more beautiful than the boats that hold them.

You are standing on what seems to be glistening sand. 

You take some of it in your hands and examine it—you observe that it is bright and shining like points of another flame and it is really composed of pure magnetic flame. 

This lake is only one of millions of others within the heavenly spheres but from this lake you can form an idea of them all— yet none are exactly alike.

Desiring to sail out on this little lake, you see an elegant little boat approaching the shore, and beckoning to it with a smile, it soon glides near to where you are standing. 

It is exactly like a very large pond-lily, half-open—the outer leaves being of that peculiar pink—the inner leaves of pure white, and the central part a pale yellow—soft and fleecy. 

Seated amongst the white leaves, you now push your beautiful boat from the shore—you do not appear to guide the boat, but allow it to float where it will. 

You are soon mingling with many other boats if not just like your own, yet fully as beautiful. 

As these boats pass and repass you, the lovely angelic beings within them wave their white hands to you with sweetest smiles—your joy and happiness amount to ecstasy. 

You can never put upon paper the description of the heaven, which you are seeing and feeling.

Taking some of the water up in your hands, and examining it, it looks and seems to you like the water on earth, but as you hold it in your hands, you find that it has no appreciable weight—it is a very fine spray—or vapour, finer even than any spray that can be formed by mechanical apparatus on earth—yet it moistens—or dampens your hands, still it rolls in gentle waves and has gravity—or the power of attracting and holding itself together, and holds the same proportion and relationship to the spiritual earth that water does to the material earth with this difference—a spirit cannot drown within it and can swim or float through it at his pleasure, yet prefer to sail upon it in fairylike boats. 

You will see many lovely forms swimming and floating in the water—their faces transported with happiness—their long hair streaming out on the waves like glittering sunshine.

As your gaze rests within the depths of the lake, you can see the various kinds of fish that usually inhabit fresh inland lakes. 

A fish is a bright and beautiful object anywhere,  but these spiritual fish are transcendent—their colours are blended more beautifully than the rainbow—red, yellow, green and pearl—blue, violet, pink, crystal and white, and every shade of every description mingled and blended beautifully and harmoniously together. 

You can see the lake trout—the long pickerel—the little minnow—larger fish of various kinds, yet the lake is not overstocked—there are just enough fish darting through the waters to lend life and enchantment to the view. 

You observe that nothing propagates here—there is nothing within all the heavenly spheres belonging to earth except those things that have been developed up through matter on the earth. 

All that you see here is but the spirit of those things, which once existed on earth—there is no propagation of any kind within any of the heavenly spheres, and earth can never furnish more than will perfect the heavens—it is the earth yielding up its spirit, as the sun yields up its spirit, yet the sun is a primary world, never intended for habitation, but to perfect other worlds and render them fit for habitation. 

The sun’s spirit is pure magnetism and retains only one form, for it never reaches a point beyond one globular form and we have already seen how its electric light is made to blaze. 

The earth is a secondary world and it yields up its spirit through its countless forms of life and thus forms the grand spiritual heavens for the happiness and home of man—its crown or culmination, which is at last the all-wise, God-like angel.

Your boat now touches the opposite shore from where you started and stretching out before you is a grand and beautiful forest. 

You leave the boat and glide through its cool and sequestered aisles. 

The trees are of various kinds like a forest of earth, and beautiful mosses, ferns and brilliant wild flowers of all kinds that usually grow in deep woods are all about you, with this difference—there is not a twig, leaf or flower in the least decayed and all the bark on the trees is perfect and beautiful, nowhere are there any tangles or disagreeable obstructions—no stumps or decaying logs—nothing but the most perfect and beautiful order—not set after man’s small pattern, but most natural and beautiful. 

You come to little purling, sparkling streams of water, small cataracts, leaping cascades and here again you see the shining trout darting through the water. 

You seat yourself on a moss-grown hillock as though to rest, yet you are not weary. 

Presently, a deer peeps shyly at you through the trees—then you see a number of deers and fawns skipping and playing about. 

Soon an enormous lion approaches you, and as you stretch forth your hand, the lion comes up to you and you pat its shaggy mane.

Nothing can harm you in this world—the lion is as harmless, as the lamb, and it is as immortal as man. 

And why should it not be? 

If one were to take away the immortality of any living thing, one would take away the immortality of all living things, for life is spirit, and spirit is life—nothing else.

All living things first exist as spiritual germinal points swimming within the ethereal sea, and as each germ is developed up through matter into its perfect form, it takes its proper place within the spiritual realm there to exist forever.

You see a panther—or two, occasionally, a bear—many beautifully plumaged birds sing their sweet songs over your head, and pretty, nimble, bright-eyed squirrels run up and down the trees. 

A wild sweet hush rests within this grand old forest and a gentle breeze rustles and sighs through the trees. 

This is only one of countless other forests within the heavenly spheres and there are forests of all kinds. 

Many are of tropical growth with corresponding spiritual animal life. 

It does not take you long to travel in this beautiful spiritual realm, for you float rather than walk, and you can move with great rapidity if you so desire. 

You soon leave the woods and stand on an elevation looking out over a beautiful valley. 

The valley is long and wide, perhaps twenty miles in length by five in width. 

It is dotted all over with small towns, villages and rural homes, and every home is more beautiful than a dream—so beautiful you cannot do them justice in trying to describe them. 

They do not appear to be built of wood, but of jewels of various kinds—topazes, emeralds, sapphires, diamonds, pearls, agates, gold, silver, granite, marble, stained glass, rubies, turquoise, corals, garnets, amber, sea shells, and occasionally of small rare pebbles. 

You can see winding roads, white and shining. and beautiful angelic forms, walking and floating. 

You can see glistening spires, gay towers and monuments. 

You can see sparkling rivers and winding streams. 

You can see fountains and gorgeous flowers, pet dogs, and other domestic animals. 

You can see children skipping and playing, and groups of angels conversing. 

You can see gay kites and gayer balloons hovering over the towns. 

The light of the sun is not needed in heaven, and the light of this world is not like that of earth, yet it is as light as the lightest and most beautiful day of earth—the light is a sparkling, rosy light, like the dawn of a clear summer day, and yet you can see all the colours that ever existed flashing here and there, glinting, sparkling, whirling, like some clear, beautiful, effervescing, liquid ether, and it is the ethereal atmosphere—the ethereal atmosphere is life, light and motion in and of itself.

This valley with these towns and villages is only one valley within the spiritual heavens and there are as many such—or similar, as there are sands on the seashore. 

Such is heaven.

How could it be otherwise? for earth has been yielding up its treasures of life—or spirit for countless ages.

Oceanides—A Psychical Novel