Today they know not what they do;
Tomorrow, when they see
Their deed, how cru­el, must they rue
Wrong done half-wit­ting­ly?
When trem­bling they for mer­cy sue,
Wilt Thou se­vere­ly say,
Your hands in blood ye did im­brue;
Die, then, and turn away?

No, that be far from Thee, to break
These pe­ni­tents so bruised,
Whose hearts for that wild er­ror ache
They did with minds con­fused:
Their sin, that made the dull earth shake,
The speech­less heav’ns grow black,
Thy mer­cy quite away can take,
When Love comes con­quer­or back—

Love, strong­er than the grave and hell,
Than fire and fro­zen death—
To be life’s cool eter­nal well,
Life’s mild eter­nal breath.
Sweet sap with­in the cross shall swell,
Green branch­es round it twine,
That heav’nly fruits to earth may tell
This sor­row was di­vine.