And robs his soul of joy!
Is this that power unknown
That rules the world with curbless, boundless sway,
Binding the lowest cot and loftiest throne
In golden fetters, which resist decay,
And breathing o’er each cold and rugged zone
The balminess of May?
No! By the soul’s high trust
On Him whose mandate bade the planets move!
Who, kind and merciful, though sternly just,