JUDGE—JUDGMENT.
The Lord loveth judgment.—Psalm xxxvii. 28.
Hear my prayer, O Lord, give ear to my supplications.
And enter not into judgment with thy servant: for in thy sight shall no man living be justified.—Psalm cxliii. 1, 2.
Judge not, that ye be not judged.—Matthew, vii. 1.
We shall all stand before the judgment-seat of Christ.
Let us not therefore judge one another any more, but judge this rather, that no man put a stumbling-block, or an occasion to fall, in his brother’s way.—Romans, xiv. 10, 13.
He should be born grey-headed, that will bear
The sword of empire: judgment of the life,
Free state, and reputation of a man,
If he be just and worthy, dwells so dark,
That it denies access to sun and moon;
The soul’s eye, sharpen’d with that sacred light
Of whom the sun itself is but a beam,
Must only give that judgment. O how much
Err those kings then that play with life and death,
And nothing put into their serious states
But humour and their lusts! For which alone
Men long for kingdoms, whose huge counterpoise
In cares and dangers, could a fool comprise,
He would not be a king, but would be wise.
Chapman.
The day of Christ; the last, the dreadful day;
When thou and I, and all the world, shall come
Before His judgment-seat, to bear their doom
For ever and for ever; and when they
Who loved not God, far, far from Him away
Shall go;—but whither banished? and with whom?—
And they who loved Him shall be welcomed home
To God, and Christ, and Heaven, and Heaven’s array,
Angels and saints made perfect—may the scene
Of that dread day be always present here—
Here in my heart! That every day between,
Which brings my passage to the goal more near,
May find me fitter, by His love made clean,
Before His throne of justice to appear.
Bishop Mant.
Then, all Thy saints assembled, Thou shalt judge
Bad men and angels; they, arraigned, shall sink
Beneath Thy sentence: Hell, her numbers full,
Thenceforth shall be for ever shut. Meanwhile
The world shall burn, and from her ashes spring
New Heaven and Earth, wherein the just shall dwell,
And after all their tribulations long,
See golden days, fruitful of golden deeds,
With joy and love triumphing, and fair truth.
Then Thou Thy regal sceptre shalt lay by,
For regal sceptre thee no more shall need,
God shall be All in All.
Milton.
The world is grown old, and her pleasures are past;
The world is grown old, and her form may not last;
The world is grown old, and trembles for fear,
For sorrows abound, and judgment is near!
The sun in the heaven is languid and pale;
And feeble and few are the fruits of the vale;
And the hearts of the nations fail them for fear,
For the world is grown old, and judgment is near!
The king on his throne, the bride in her bower,
The children of pleasure all feel the sad hour;
The roses are faded, and tasteless the cheer;
For the world is grown old, and judgment is near!
The world is grown old, but should we complain
Who have tried her, and know that her promise is vain;
Our heart is in heaven, our home is not here,
And we look for our crown when judgment is near.
Bishop Heber.
From Adam to his youngest heir,
Not one shall ’scape that muster-roll;
Each, as if he alone were there,
Shall stand, and win, or lose his soul:
These from the Judge’s presence, go
Down into everlasting woe;
Vengeance hath barred the gates of hell—
The scenes within no tongue can tell.
But lo! far off, the righteous pass
To glory; from the king’s right hand,
In silence, on the sea of glass,
Heaven’s numbers without number stand,
While He who bore the cross, lays down
His priestly robe and victor crown;
The mediatorial reign complete,
All things are put beneath His feet.
James Montgomery.
Time
Hath functions awful and sublime,
And on its viewless lapse are traced
Stern chronicles of all the past,
A writing every sunset laid,
While heaven is still within the shade
Of Christ’s high throne, one day to be
A part of the solemnity
And pomp of judgment, endless Woe,
Or endless Weal! to some a show
Of fiery ciphers, symbols dread,
Of unchaste things unpardoned.
*****
And some there are to whom that scroll
Sad record still, may yet unroll
A fairer vision, dark and bright,
Like dawn o’er-mastering tardy night
In dubious streaks, with here and there
A firm and radiant character,
To angels’ eyes not new, but known
And recognised the Judge’s own.
Frederic W. Faber.
The judgment! the judgment! the thrones are all set,
Where the Lamb and the white-vested Elders are met!
All flesh is at once in the sight of the Lord,
And the doom of eternity hangs on His word!
O mercy! O mercy! look down from above,
Creator! on us thy sad children, with love!
When beneath, to their darkness, the wicked are driven,
May our sanctified souls find a mansion in Heaven!
H. H. Milman.