I hope our wisdom will grow with our power, and teach us, that

The words of Thomas Jefferson, “I hope our wisdom will grow with our power, and teach us, that the less we use our power the greater it will be,” resound like a bell cast in the fire of civilization’s trials. They speak to a truth ancient as the dawn—that restraint, not domination, is the highest form of strength. Power is like a mighty river; when guided by wisdom, it nourishes fields and cities. But when unleashed in arrogance, it floods and destroys all it touches. Jefferson’s prayer was not for more dominion, but for more discernment—to wield authority with humility, and to let moderation become the measure of might.

In the age of empires and revolutions, Jefferson stood among men intoxicated with newfound liberty. The young American republic, trembling with power and promise, faced the eternal temptation that befalls all who ascend—the desire to impose, to command, to rule beyond necessity. Yet Jefferson, in his reflective wisdom, foresaw the danger. He knew that power without self-control decays, that the sword too often drawn soon loses its edge. Thus, he called for wisdom to grow alongside strength, like two vines twined upon the same trellis—one steadying the other, lest ambition choke the roots of virtue.

Consider the story of George Washington, who, at the end of the Revolution, stood as the most powerful man in America. The army adored him, the people trusted him, and the crown could have easily been his. Yet when offered the throne, he refused it. He laid down his sword and returned to his farm at Mount Vernon. In that single act of restraint, he achieved a greatness that conquest could never grant. His power became immortal precisely because he chose not to use it. That is the essence of Jefferson’s wisdom—the paradox that true authority grows when it is governed by humility.

Throughout history, the mightiest civilizations have fallen not from external blows, but from the arrogance of their own power. Rome, drunk on conquest, forgot the virtues that had raised her. Empires from east to west have repeated the same folly: mistaking domination for strength. But wisdom whispers a gentler truth—that restraint is the secret fire of endurance, and that moral strength, not military might, sustains the world. Jefferson’s words echo across centuries as both warning and hope: that the spirit of man may one day learn to master its own hand.

To the hearts of those who would lead—whether in nations, homes, or hearts—this teaching speaks still. Power is not evil in itself; it is a sacred trust. But its righteous use demands self-knowledge, patience, and mercy. The less we seek to prove our strength through force, the more the world will recognize our inner greatness. Like a lion who need not roar to command respect, the wise soul rules quietly through virtue, not violence.

In our daily lives, Jefferson’s lesson endures. When anger tempts you to strike back, hold your peace; when pride bids you to boast, remain humble; when you can control others, choose instead to inspire them. These small acts of restraint are the seeds of true greatness. Power grows not in the hand that grasps, but in the spirit that restrains and refines its strength.

Let this be the inheritance we pass to those who come after us: that wisdom and power must forever walk side by side. Let our hearts learn that the less we brandish our might, the more it will shine. And when the world trembles between arrogance and humility, let us be as Washington was—as Jefferson hoped we would become—strong enough to be gentle, and wise enough to know that the less we use our power, the greater it shall be.