The blood of the righteous man is the only writing on earth that cannot be blotted out.
Did you kill Christ, O despairing ones, as you hoped? Or does His blood burn even today upon your heads?
Proclaim, O sea, with your roar to all the regions of the earth: the blood of the righteous man burns upon the head even of the hundredth generation.
Crisscross, you thunders, from east to west, and write plainly, even for the blind: no evil can men
do to the righteous man, but that the evil crashes down twofold upon their own head.
For a stone cast at the righteous man is cast into the height, and falling from the height it gains in weight.
O stones of Jerusalem, you who stand scattered today, cry out and tell the race of men, the forgetful race, what became of the slain righteous man, and what became of those who slew him!
I saw a dog stretch itself out once over hot porridge, and it came no more even to the cold. But men I watch day after day scorching themselves on the blood of the righteous man, and never do they leave off.
O you more senseless than the senseless, are you not ashamed to repeat the lesson that even dogs learn at once?
Better that a whole murderous nation vanish than one single righteous man. For heaven does not ask: how much blood has been spilled? but: whose blood has been spilled?
Should all the nations rise up against one righteous man, they will be able to do him no harm. They can only be his escort to the grave. But he will escort them beyond the grave.
Truly the righteous man punishes with his mercy until the grave, and with his justice beyond the grave.
Do not secure an estate for your children, you who have entered into the blood of the righteous man. Behold, all their estate will perish except the blood that you spilled.
And it is not the righteous man who will cast a curse upon you, but your own children, when they eat the bitter bread of slaves.
In the rags of the righteous man God hides Himself. Woe to you, if the rags offend you, and you despise also Him who is within the rags.
Thou wast lifted up on the cross, O Christ God, not to show Thy powerlessness before the world, but the world's powerlessness before Thee.
As shadows in the moonlight beat against a rock, so powerless are the nations that strike at Thee.
O Comfort of the righteous and Courage of the martyrs, have mercy on us and save us.