A Witness of One of the Twelve, Elder Orson F. Whitney's Vision of the Savior (1855 to 1931)

Apostle Orson F. Whitney had a remarkable dream, which he thus relates: "I thought I was in the Garden of Gethsemane, a witness of the Savior's agony. I seemed to be standing behind a tree in the foreground of the picture, from which point I could see without being seen. The Savior, with the Apostles Peter, James and John, entered the garden through a little wicket gate at my right, where he stationed them in a group, telling them to pray…

This happened three times, until I was perfectly familiar with his face, form and movements. He was of noble stature and majestic (demeanor); not at all the weak, (unmanly) being that some painters have portrayed. He was and is as… humble as a little child.

(The Savior) was much taller than ordinary men, and though (gentle), far more dignified than any being I had ever beheld; and he wore a look of (unspeakable) tenderness and compassion, even while reproving His disciples. My heart went out to him as never before to anybody or to anything; I loved him with all my soul. I wept at seeing him weep, and felt for him the deepest sympathy.

Then of a sudden the circumstances changed, though the scene remained the same. Instead of before the crucifixion, it was after. The Savior and the three Apostles, whom he had beckoned to him, now stood in a group at the left, and were about to take their departure, ascending into heaven.

I could endure it no longer, but rushed out from behind the tree, fell at his feet, clasped him around the knees and begged him to take me also. With a look of infinite tenderness, as of a father or an elder brother, he stooped, lifted me up and embraced me, saying as he did so in the kindest and gentlest manner possible, while slowly shaking his head and sweetly smiling, 'No, my son, these can go with me; for they have finished their work; but you must stay and finish yours!'

Still I clung to him, and the contact was so real that I felt the warmth of his bosom as I rested upon it. Gazing up into his face, I once more besought him, 'Well, promise me that I will come to you at the last.' Again he smiled sweetly, and there was a look as if he would have gladly granted my request had it been wise to do so. He then said, 'That will depend entirely upon yourself.' I (then) awoke with a sob, and it was morning."