Mrs. S. A. Collins



What is Heaven?

by Mrs. S. A. Collins

"What is Heaven?" This question was asked

      By an innocent one close by my knee.

"Is it made of silver and gold and pearls

      Has anyone been there to see?

Does God and the angels keep watch over all,

      And see that each one is fed?

Or don't people get hungry in heaven;

      If I could just see it," she said.

Are all of our loved ones who who’ve died,

      In heaven, and waiting for me?

Will they know me whenever I come

      And welcome me happy and free

Will grandmama stand at-the door,

      With her hair so wavy and white?

Take me up in her arms and kiss me

      As she used to do morning and night:

They tell me no wickedness ever

      can get into heaven. No fear,

What a happy place it must be,

      Never a need for a tear.

I can never rehearse all the questions

      Which came as a prompter to me.

What could I answer? I never could tell her,

      For I was as ignorant as she.

Then turned to the bible beside me.

      And studied it over again.

It told of the beauties of heaven,

      And still it did not seem plain.

Oh! could I stand on yonder peak.

      And. gazing toward the sky,

Look so far into the beyond

      That I might solve that myst3ry.

And then could take wings to myself,

      Also a tongue of :fire,

I'd visit those of every clime,

      Tell the tidings far and near.