Judge Not

Judge not; tho irorking of fata brain Anrl of his henrt thou cans't uot see, What looks to tliy dim eyes a staiu, In God's pure light, may only be A scar brought from some well-won field, Where thou wouldst only faiut aud yield. The look, the air that frets tliy sight, May be a token that below Tlie soul has closecl in deadly flght Witli some internal licry foe, Whoso glance woukl scorch thy smillng gi-ace, And cast thee shuddering on thy face. The fall thou darest to despise May be the slackcned angel' hand Has snftered it, that he may rise And take a (inner surer stand; Or, trusting lens to sarthly things, May heucelörth eam to uae hli wings. And jiulge none lost ; hut wait and see, Witli hopefal plty, not dlsdaln, The deptb of ttie ;il)'s.i may be The measure of the Leiglit of g:ün, And love and glory that may raise Thls soul to God in aftel duy.