text_original: He who stooped down and wrote upon the sand, The God heart in him touched to tenderness, Saw deep, saw what we cannot understand,   We, who draw near the shrine of one to bless The while we scourge another's sore distress, And judge like gods between the ill and good, The glory and the guilt of womanhood.
text_transcription: HE WHO STOOPED DOWN AND RODE UPON THE SAND THE GODHEARD IN HIM TOUCHED TO TENDERNESS SAW DEEP SAW WHAT WE CANNOT UNDERSTAND WE WHO DRAW NEAR THE SHRINE OF ONE TO BLESS THE WHILE WE SCORCH ANOTHER'S SORE DISTRESS AND JUDGE LIKE GODS BETWEEN THE ILL AND GOOD THE GLORY AND THE GUILT OF WOMANHOOD
phonemes: hiː hˌuː stˈuːpt dˌaʊn ænd ɹˈoʊt əpˌɑːn ðə sˈænd, ðə ɡˈɑːd hˈɑːɹt ɪn hˌɪm tˈʌtʃt tə tˈɛndɚnəs, sˈɔː dˈiːp, sˈɔː wʌt wiː kænˈɑːt ˌʌndɚstˈænd,   wiː, hˌuː dɹˈɔː nˌɪɹ ðə ʃɹˈaɪn ʌv wˈʌn tə blˈɛs ðə wˈaɪl wiː skˈɜːdʒ ɐnˈʌðɚz sˈɔːɹ dɪstɹˈɛs, ænd dʒˈʌdʒ lˈaɪk ɡˈɑːdz bᵻtwˌiːn ðɪ ˈɪl ænd ɡˈʊd, ðə ɡlˈɔːɹi ænd ðə ɡˈɪlt ʌv wˈʊmənhˌʊd.