Who ponders National events shall find
An awful balancing of loss and gain,
Joy based on sorrow, good with ill combined,
And proud deliverance issuing out of pain
And direful throes; as if the All-ruling Mind,
With whose perfection it consists to ordain
Volcanic burst, earthquake, and hurricane,
Dealt in like sort with feeble human kind
By laws immutable. But woe for him
Who thus deceived shall lend an eager hand
To social havoc. Is not Conscience ours,
And Truth, whose eye guilt only can make dim;
And Will, whose office, by divine command,
Is to control and check disordered Powers?
Read all of William Wordsworth's poems · About William Wordsworth
More by William Wordsworth
- Miscellaneous Sonnets, 1842 - VI - Concluded
- Miscellaneous Sonnets, 1842 - VII - Men Of The Western World
- Miscellaneous Sonnets, 1842 - VIII - Lo! Where She Stands Fixed In A Saint-Like Trance
- Monument Of Mrs. Howard - By Nollekens - In Wetheral Church, Near Corby, On The Banks Of The Eden
- Most Sweet It Is
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