Well are they agreed upon the verdict, just, and fixt, and final,
And the sentence showeth clear, before the Judge hath spoken:
Now,—while resting matter is at peace within the tomb,
The conscious spirit watcheth in unspeakable suspense;
Racked with a fearful looking-forward, or blissfully feeding on the foretaste,
Waiting souls in eager expectation pass the solemn interval:
They slumber not at death, but awaken, quickened to the terrors of the judgment;
They lie not insensate among darkness, but exult, looking forward to the light:
Idiotcy, brightening on the instant, when that veil is torn,
Is grateful that his torpor here hath left him as an innocent: