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,