Forbid the fatal policy of sin,
Leave the just laws to deal with factious hate,
Calm down the public mind, and save the State.
Pause, Britain, pause, ere yet advanced too far
Thy hand lets slip the dogs of civil war,
Ere yet the vultures hovering in the sky
On the self-immolated quarry fly.
So shall pure Faith’s long-hallowed altar stand!
Still unprofaned by state-craft’s ruthless hand;
So shall the threatened Auburn cease to weep,