'I have a vision of that judgment-scene: These wide-embracing walls I see expand To the horizon's utmost rim around; This roof is lifted to the top of heaven; This multitude is multiplied to count Beyond all count; yon judgment-throne becomes Dazzling beyond the splendors of the sun With an exceeding whiteness, such as eye Of man nor angel can abide to see; And He that sits thereon, and makes it dark By the excess of brightness in His face, Speaks, and His voice to hear is as the sound Of many waters rolling down in flood. I heard that voice once speaking from the sky Amid a blaze of light falling around Me at midnoon that blanched the Syrian sun Burning from his meridian height on me. O men, my brethren, it was a dread voice; But I obeyed it, and I therefore lived. Obey it ye, heard speaking through my lips And bidding, Come! O, sweet and dreadful voice, Both sweet and dreadful, uttering now that word! Dreadful, not sweet, it then will sound to those Who hearing thus the invitation, Come, Harden their hearts to disobey. For then In changed tones it will speak a different word. 'Hence, curséd of my Father!' it will say, And drive the disobedient as with sword Of flame forth issuing and pursuing them, Pursuing and devouring, while they fly In vain forever and forever far Before it, and no refuge anywhere In all the boundless universe of God Find from the fiery fangs of that fierce sword!' "I never saw," said Luke, "such pity cast Such pathos over such solemnity, Such faithfulness to God, to man, as then, While he in that hushed audience spoke these things, Lived in Paul's looks and tuned his prophet tones. No one that listened and beheld escaped The power of God; and some perhaps believed.