Nations, and hues, and dialects alike; According to their works shall they be judged, When even-handed Justice in the scale Their good and evil weighs. All creeds, I ween, Agree in this, and hold it orthodox. Roderick, perceiving here that Julian paused, As if he waited for acknowledgement Of that plain truth, in motion of assent Inclined his brow complacently, and said, Even so: What follows?... This; resumed the Count, That creeds like colours being but accident, Are therefore in the scale imponderable; ... Thou seest my meaning; ... that from every faith As every clime, there is a way to Heaven, And thou and I may meet in Paradise. Oh grant it, God! cried Roderick fervently, And smote his breast. Oh grant it, gracious God! Through the dear blood of Jesus, grant that he And I may meet before the Mercy-throne! That were a triumph of Redeeming Love, For which admiring Angels would renew Their hallelujahs through the choir of Heaven! Man! quoth Count Julian, wherefore art thou moved To this strange passion? I require of thee Thy judgement, not thy prayers! Be not displeased! In gentle voice subdued the Goth replies; A prayer, from whatsoever lips it flow, By thine own rule should find the way to Heaven, So that the heart in its sincerity Straight forward breathe it forth. I, like thyself, Am all untrain’d to subtleties of speech, Nor competent of this great argument Thou openest; and perhaps shall answer thee Wide of the words, but to the purport home. There are to whom the light of gospel truth Hath never reach’d; of such I needs must deem As of the sons of men who had their day Before the light was given. But, Count, for those Who, born amid the light, to darkness turn Wilful in error, ... I dare only say, God doth not leave the unhappy soul without An inward monitor, and till the grave Open, the gate of mercy is not closed.