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,