Does it break before its time?
Then he knows on God's fair footstool
No shelter there is for crime.

For the rushing, tempting waters,
Have got an accusing roar;
The treacherous sweeping eddy
Has brought the crime to his door.

Then he lives over and over,
That moment of anguished dread,
When the cry arose--awestruck hands
Had found and borne oft his dead.

Thus he, conscience-lashed and goaded,
Feeling as the murderer feels,
Has reached the last, last spot of earth,
The Avenger at his heels

Ah me! to plunge in those swellings,
Along with that ghastly face,
Going out on unknown waters
In that clinging dread embrace

So he floated on to judgment,
What award may meet him there,
Who knows--but his earthly punishment
Was greater than he could bear