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 suppression of grandeur.  No wrapping out of sight of the Godhead.  Any fifty of the most brilliant sunsets that you ever saw on land or sea would be dim as compared with the cerulean appearance on that day when Christ rolls through, and rolls on, and rolls down in His glory.  The air will be all abloom with His presence, and everything from horizon to horizon aflame with His splendor.

Elijah rode up the sky-steep in a chariot, the wheels of whirling fire and the horses of galloping fire, and the charioteer drawing reins of fire on bits of fire; but Christ will need no such equipage, for the law of gravitation will be laid aside, and the natural elements will be laid aside, and Christ will descend swiftly enough to make speedy arrival, but slowly enough to allow the gaze of millions of spectators.  In his glory!  Glory of form, glory of omnipotence, glory of holiness, glory of justice, glory of love.  In His glory!  An unveiled, an uncovered God descending to meet the human race in an interview which will be prolonged only for a few hours, and yet which shall settle all the past and all the present and all the future, and be closed before the end of that day, which will close, not with setting sun, but with the destruction of the planet as a snuffers takes off the top of a burned wick.

It is a solemn time in a court-room when there is an important case on hand, and the judge of the Supreme Court enters, and he sits down, and with gavel strikes on the desk commanding bar and jury and witnesses and audience into silence.  All voices are hushed, all heads are uncovered.  But how much more impressive when Christ shall take the judgment seat on the last day of the last week of the last month of the last year of the world’s existence, and with gavel of thunder-bolt shall smite the mountains, commanding all the land and all the sea into silence.