Kritzinger
Before the gates of vengeful darkness close
Ponder, O England, what thou wilt have done
If thou dost hide for ever from the sun
This man, perhaps the noblest of thy foes.
What woman's heart can here in peace repose
If this most monstrous deed, condemned of none,
Makes horror's blood-stained cup at last o'er-run?
Add not another to unmeasured woes.
The world is watching. Let one pitying cry
Ring forth from England. In the name of heaven
Let mercy, not crude “justice,” win the day!
Forgive: and be for many a sin forgiven.
Beware lest, if this man ignobly die,
Thine own soul with him take the deathward way.
Ponder, O England, what thou wilt have done
If thou dost hide for ever from the sun
This man, perhaps the noblest of thy foes.
What woman's heart can here in peace repose
If this most monstrous deed, condemned of none,
Makes horror's blood-stained cup at last o'er-run?
Add not another to unmeasured woes.
The world is watching. Let one pitying cry
Ring forth from England. In the name of heaven
Let mercy, not crude “justice,” win the day!
Forgive: and be for many a sin forgiven.
Beware lest, if this man ignobly die,
Thine own soul with him take the deathward way.
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