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Men that mocked Thee to Thy face,
Fools who took Thy name in vain —
Grant that in this deadly place
Jests and blasphemy remain.
On the pallid face of death,
Gasping slow and painfully
Curses with its latest breath.
Miserere Domine.
Where we see the men we know
Rags of broken flesh and bone,
And the thing that hurt them so
Seems to wait for us alone.
Where the silence of the grave
Broods and threatens soundlessly,
On the souls we cannot save,
Miserere Domine.
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