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Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that’s the inheritor of our fear.

Alan Paton

Something deep is touched here, something that is good and deep.
ALAN PATON

Deep Good Here Something Touch
Cry for the broken tribe, for the law and the custom that is gone. Aye, and cry aloud for the man who is dead, for the woman and children bereaved.
ALAN PATON

Aloud Aye Bereaved Children Custom Dead Law Tribe Woman
Ask yourself not if this or that is expedient, but if it is right.
ALAN PATON

Ask Expedient Right Yourself
But the one thing that has power completely is love, because when a man loves, he seeks no power, and therefore he has power.
ALAN PATON

Completely Love Man One Power Thing Wise
because life slips away, and because I need for the rest of my journey a star that will not play false to me, a compass that will not lie.
ALAN PATON

Away Compass False Journey Lie Life Ned Play Rest Slip
There is a man sleeping in the grass. And over him is gathering the greatest storm of all his days.
ALAN PATON

All Day Gather Grass Great Man Over Sleep Storm
I am a weak and sinful man, but God put His hands on me, that is all.
ALAN PATON

All God Hand His Man Sinful Well
Let me not be afraid to defend the weak because of the anger of the strong, nor afraid to defend the poor because of the anger of the rich.
ALAN PATON

Afraid Anger Defend Let Poor Strong Weak
Cry, the beloved country, these things are not yet at an end.
ALAN PATON

Beloved Country Cry End Thing Yet
To give up the task of reforming society is to give up one’s responsibility as a free man.
ALAN PATON

Free Give Man Reform Responsibility Society Task
Nor give too much of his heart to a mountain or a valley. For fear will rob him if he gives too much.
ALAN PATON

Fear Give Heart Mountain Much Nor Rob Valley
Let him not love the earth too deeply. Let him not laugh too gladly when the water runs through his fingers, nor stand too silent when the setting sun makes red the veld with fire.
ALAN PATON

Deep Earth FIner Fire Let Love Make Sun Through
The truth is, our civilization is not Christian; it is a tragic compound of great ideal and fearful practice, of loving charity and fearful clutching of possessions.
ALAN PATON

Christian Civilization Compound Fearful Grant Ideal Love Possession Practice Tragic Truth
There is a lovely road that runs from Ixopo into the hills.
ALAN PATON

Hill Into Lovely Road Run Xopo
There are voices crying what must be done, a hundred, a thousand voices.
ALAN PATON

Cry Done Hundred Must Thousand Voice
The Afrikaner has nowhere to go, and thats why he would rather destroy himself than capitulate.
ALAN PATON

Capitulate Country Destroy Go Himself Nowhere Rather

Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that’s the inheritor of our fear.

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Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that’s the inheritor of our fear.

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