Ends and Means

Ezra of the Cleftlands

Shall we, in piety, permit our foe
to yet draw breath and plot, impious kin,
when we with godly sword may lay them low?
Be still! Speak not of this as bloody sin!

My brethren, hark! Our breath is blesséd gift.
Know true: their own be poisonous curse to end.
Go forth in violent confidence, be swift!
Ask not if they or thou to hell you send.

Christ blessed upon the Mount the sons of God,
the peacemakers. For we are each, each other.
Though righteous be thy wrath, spare ye the rod.
Look close: the foe ye strike, he is thy brother.

No end can justify all means, my friends.
But means will always justify their ends.

This page maintained by Cerian Cantwr, cerian@minstrel.com.