angels with Him, then shall He sit upon the throne of His
glory: and before Him shall be gathered all nations: and He
shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth
his sheep from the goats."--MATTHEW xxv: 31, 32.

Half-way between Chamouny, Switzerland, and Martigny, I reined in the
horse on which I was riding, and looked off upon the most wonderful
natural amphitheater of valley and mountain and rock, and I said to my
companion, "What an appropriate place this would be for the last
judgment. Yonder overhanging rock the place for the judgment seat.
These galleries of surrounding hills occupied by attendant angels.
This vast valley, sweeping miles this way and miles that, the
audience-room for all nations." But sacred geography does not point
out the place. Yet we know that somewhere, some time, somehow, an
audience will be gathered together stupendous beyond all statistics,
and just as certainly as you and I make up a part of this audience
to-day, we will make up a part of that audience on that day.

A common sense of justice in every man's heart demands that there
shall be some great winding-up day, in which that which is now
inexplicable shall be explained.

Why did that good man suffer, and that bad man prosper? You say, "I
don't know, but I must know." Why is that good Christian woman dying
of what is called a spider cancer, while that daughter of folly sits
wrapped in luxury, ease, and health? You say, "I don't know, but I
must know." There are so many wrongs to be righted that if there were
not some great righting-up day in the presence of all ages, there
would be an outcry against God from which His glory would never
recover. If God did not at last try the nations, the nations would try
Him. We are, therefore, ready for the announcement of the text. The
world never saw Christ except in disguise. If once when He was on
earth He had let out His glory, instead of the blind eyes being
healed, all visions would have been extinguished. No human eye could
have endured it. And instead of bringing the dead to life, all around
about him would have been the slain under that overpowering
effulgence. Disguise of human flesh. Disguise of seamless robe.
Disguise of sandal. Disguise of voice. From Bethlehem caravansary to
mausoleum in the rock, a complete disguise.

But on the day of which I speak the Son of Man will come in His glory.
No hiding of luster. No sheathing of strength. No suppress