Naught upon earth is wrought in thy despite, O God.
Nor in the ethereal sphere aloft which ever winds
About its pole, nor in the sea — save only what
The wicked work, in their strange madness,
Yet even so, thou knowest to make the crooked straight.
Prune all excess, give order to the orderless,
For unto thee the unloved still is lovely–
And thus in one all things are harmonized,
The evil with the good, that so one Word
Should be in all things everlastingly.

One Word–which evermore the wicked flee!
Ill-fated, hungering to possess the good
They have no vision of God’s universal law,
Nor will they hear, though if obedient in mind
They might obtain a noble life, true wealth.
Instead they rush unthinking after ill:
Some with a shameless zeal for fame,
Others pursuing gain, disorderly;
Still others folly, or pleasures of the flesh.
[But evils are their lot] and other times
Bring other harvests, all unsought–
For all their great desire, its opposite!

But, Zeus, thou giver of every gift,
Who dwellest within the dark clouds, wielding still
The flashing stroke of lightning, save, we pray,
Thy children from this boundless misery.
Scatter, O Father, the darkness from their souls,
Grant them to find true understanding
On which relying thou justly rulest all—
While we, thus honoured, in turn will honour thee,
Hymning thy works forever, as is meet
For mortals while no greater right
Belongs even to the gods than evermore
Justly to praise the universal law!