Ecclesiastical Sonnets - Part II. - XXIX - Translation Of The Bible

A poem by William Wordsworth

But, to outweigh all harm, the sacred Book,
In dusty sequestration wrapt too long,
Assumes the accents of our native tongue;
And he who guides the plough, or wields the crook,
With understanding spirit now may look
Upon her records, listen to her song,
And sift her laws, much wondering that the wrong,
Which Faith has suffered, Heaven could calmly brook.
Transcendent boon! noblest that earthly King
Ever bestowed to equalize and bless
Under the weight of mortal wretchedness!
But passions spread like plagues, and thousands wild
With bigotry shall tread the Offering
Beneath their feet, detested and defiled.

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'Ecclesiastical Sonnets - Part II. - XXIX - Translation Of The Bible' by William Wordsworth

comments powered by Disqus