text_original: Mercy on earth I'll not implore, To crave it would be vain, My hands are dyed with human gore, None can wash off the stain, But the merits of a Saviour, Whose mercy alone I crave; Good Christians pray, as thus I die, I may his pardon have.
text_transcription: MERCY ON EARTH I'LL NOT IMPLORE TO CRAVE IT WOULD BE VAIN MY HANDS ARE DYED WITH HUMAN GORE NONE CAN WASH OFF THE STAIN BUT THE MERITS OF A SAVIOUR WHOSE MERCY ALONE I CRAVE GOOD CHRISTIANS PRAY AS THUS I DIE I MAY HIS PARDON HAVE
phonemes: mˈɜːsi ˌɔn ˈɜːθ aɪl nˌɑːt ɪmplˈɔːɹ, tə kɹˈeɪv ɪt wʊd biː vˈeɪn, maɪ hˈændz ɑːɹ dˈaɪd wɪð hjˈuːmən ɡˈɔːɹ, nˈʌn kæn wˈɑːʃ ˈɔf ðə stˈeɪn, bˌʌt ðə mˈɛɹɪts əvə sˈeɪvjɚ, hˌuːz mˈɜːsi ɐlˈoʊn aɪ kɹˈeɪv; ɡˈʊd kɹˈɪstʃənz pɹˈeɪ, æz ðˈʌs aɪ dˈaɪ, aɪ mˈeɪ hɪz pˈɑːɹdən hˈæv.