William cowper quotes

The still small voice is wanted.

The Cross! There, and there only (though the deist rave, and the atheist, if Earth bears so base a slave); There and there only, is the power to save.

To impute our recovery to medicine, and to carry our view no further, is to rob God of His honor, and is saying in effect that He has parted with the keys of life and death, and, by giving to a drug the power to heal us, has placed our lives out of His own reach.

The proud are ever most provoked by pride.

They whom truth and wisdom lead, can gather honey from a weed.

Glory, built on selfish principles, is shame and guilt.

Absence from whom we love is worse than death, and frustrates hope severer than despair.

He is the freeman whom the truth makes free, And all are slaves besides.

...So let us welcome peaceful evening in.

Absence of occupation is not rest.

What is there in the vale of lifeHalf so delightful as a wife;When friendship, love and peace combineTo stamp the marriage-bond divine?

Knowledge is proud that it knows so much; wisdom is humble that it knows no more.

God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform. He plants his footsteps in the sea, and rides upon the storm.

[My kitten's] gambols are not to be described, and would be incredible, if they could.

Events of all sorts creep or fly exactly as God pleases.

And the tear that is wiped with a little address, May be follow'd perhaps by a smile.

God moves in mysterious ways His wonders to performs

He finds his fellow guilty of a skin Not color'd like his own, and having pow'r T' enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey.

Vice stings us even in our pleasures, but virtue consoles us even in our pains.

Ye therefore who love mercy, teach your sons to love it, too.

O solitude, where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms, Than reign in this horrible place.

I am out of humanity's reach.I must finish my journey alone,Never hear the sweet music of speech;I start at the sound of my own.

Restraining prayer, we cease to fight; Prayer keeps the Christian's armor bright; And Satan trembles when he sees The weakest saint upon his knees.

Happy the man who sees a God employed in all the good and ills that checker life.

Remorse, the fatal egg by pleasure laid, In every bosom where her nest is made, Hatched by the beams of truth, denies him rest, And proves a raging scorpion in his breast.

There is in souls a sympathy with sounds: And as the mind is pitch'd the ear is pleased With melting airs, or martial, brisk or grave; Some chord in unison with what we hear Is touch'd within us, and the heart replies.

The Spirit breathes upon the Word and brings the truth to sight.

Absence of occupation is not rest; A mind quite vacant is a mind distressed.

Existence is a strange bargain. Life owes us little; we owe it everything. The only true happiness comes from squandering ourselves for a purpose.

The rich are too indolent, the poor too weak, to bear the insupportable fatigue of thinking.

Alas! if my best Friend, who laid down His life for me, were to remember all the instances in which I have neglected Him, and to plead them against me in judgment, where should I hide my guilty head in the day of recompense? I will pray, therefore, for blessings on my friends, even though they cease to be so, and upon my enemies, though they continue such.

Solitude, seeming a sanctuary, proves a grave; a sepulchre in which the living lie, where all good qualities grow sick and die

Accomplishments have taken virtue's place, and wisdom falls before exterior grace.

Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds, Exhilirate the spirit, and restore The tone of languid nature.

Thus happiness depends, as nature shows, less on exterior things than most suppose.

No wisdom that she may gain by experience and reflection hereafter, will compensate the loss of her present hilarity.

'Tis liberty alone that gives the flower Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume; And we are weeds without it.

The darkest day, if you live till tomorrow, will have passed away.

The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower.

Men deal with life as children with their play, Who first misuse, then cast their toys away.

How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude! But grant me still a friend in my retreat, whom I may whisper, solitude is sweet.

The innocent seldom find an uncomfortable pillow.

He that has seen both sides of fifty has lived to little purpose if he has no other views of the world than he had when he was much younger.

We are never more in danger than when we think ourselves most secure, nor in reality more secure than when we seem to be most in danger.

How much a dunce that has been sent to roam, excels a dunce that has been kept at home.

The bird that flutters least is longest on the wing.

God made bees, and bees made honey, God made man, and man made money, Pride made the devil, and the devil made sin; So God made a cole-pit to put the devil in.

Man may dismiss compassion from his heart, but God never will.

When nations are to perish in their sins, 'tis in the Church the leprosy begins.

The kindest and the happiest pair Will find occasion to forbear; And something, every day they live, To pity, and perhaps forgive.

Satan trembles when he sees the weakest saint upon their knees.

Pleasure admitted in undue degree, enslaves the will, nor leaves the judgment free.

I seem forsaken and alone, / I hear the lion roar; / And every door is shut but one, / And that is Mercy's door.

I pity them greatly, but I must be mum, for how could we do without sugar and rum?

Still ending, and beginning still.

Sends Nature forth the daughter of the skies... To dance on earth, and charm all human eyes.

There is in souls a sympathy with sounds.

If my resolution to be a great man was half so strong as it is to despise the shame of being a little one.

But still remember, if you mean to please, To press your point with modesty and ease.

A self-made man? Yes, and one who worships his creator.

Visits are insatiable devourers of time, and fit only for those who, if they did not that, would do nothing.

The cares of today are seldom those of tomorrow, and when we lie down at night we may safely say to most of our troubles, "Ye have done your worst, and we shall see you no more."

To follow foolish precedents, and wink With both our eyes, is easier than to think.

War's a game, which, were their subjects wise, Kings would not play at.

An idler is a watch that wants both hands; As useless if it goes as when it stands.

The only amarantine flower on earth Is virtue.

Blind unbelief is sure to err, And scan his work in vain; God is his own interpreter, And he will make it plain.

Remorse, the fatal egg that pleasure laid.

The only amaranthine flower on earth is virtue; the only lasting treasure, truth.

Where penury is felt the thought is chain'd, And sweet colloquial pleasures are but few.

Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unseen, a kiss; Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, but trust Him for His grace; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face.

Tea - the cups that cheer but not inebriate.

What is it but a map of busy life, Its fluctuations, and its vast concerns?

How happy it is to believe, with a steadfast assurance, that our petitions are heard even while we are making them; and how delightful to meet with a proof of it in the effectual and actual grant of them.

Some people are more nice than wise.

Truth is the golden girdle of the globe.

Manner is all in all, whate'er is writ,The substitute for genius, sense, and wit.

Skins may differ, but affection Dwells in white and black the same.

The man to solitude accustom'd long, Perceives in everything that lives a tongue; Not animals alone, but shrubs and trees Have speech for him, and understood with ease, After long drought when rains abundant fall, He hears the herbs and flowers rejoicing all.

Far happier are the dead methinks than they who look for death and fear it every day.

Books are not seldom talismans and spells.

No man can be a patriot on an empty stomach.

Nature is a good name for an effect whose cause is God.

Absence of proof is not proof of absence.

Who loves a garden loves a greenhouse too.

But oars alone can ne'er prevail To reach the distant coast; The breath of Heaven must swell the sail, Or all the toil is lost.

There is a pleasure in poetic pains / Which only poets know.

A fool must now and then be right, by chance

Pleasure is labour too, and tires as much.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust Him for His grace; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face. His purposes will ripen fast, Unfolding every hour;The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flow’r. Blind unbelief is sure to err And scan His work in vain; God is His own interpreter, And He will make it plain.

What peaceful hours I once enjoy'd! How sweet their memory still! But they have left an aching void The world can never fill.

We turn to dust, and all our mightiest works die too.

Heaven's harmony is universal love.

In a fleshly tomb, I am buried above ground.

God made the country, and man made the town.

Grief is itself a medicine.

Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one, Have oft-times no connection. Knowledge dwells In heads replete with thoughts of other men; Wisdom in minds attentive to their own.

What we admire we praise; and when we praise, Advance it into notice, that its worth Acknowledged, others may admire it too.

Would I describe a preacher, I would express him simple, grave, sincere; In doctrine uncorrupt; in language plain, And plain in manner; decent, solemn, chaste, And natural in gesture; much impress'd Himself, as conscious of his awful charge, And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds May feel it too; affectionate in look, And tender in address, as well becomes A messenger of grace to guilty men.

Time, as he passes us, has a dove's wing, Unsoil'd, and swift, and of a silken sound.

A life of ease is a difficult pursuit.

A heretic, my dear sir, is a fellow who disagrees with you regarding something neither of you knows anything about.

Variety's the very spice of life, That gives it all its flavor.

Great offices will have great talents, and God gives to every man the virtue, temper, understanding, taste, that lifts him into life, and lets him fall just in the niche he was ordained to fill.

Remorse begets reform.

This fond attachment to the well-known place Whence first we started into life's long race, Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway, We feel it e'en in age, and at our latest day.

All we behold is miracle.

There is mercy in every place. And mercy, encouraging thought gives even affliction a grace and reconciles man to his lot.

Detested sport, That owes its pleasures to another's pain.

The path of sorrow, and that path alone, leads to the land where sorrow is unknown.

Fate steals along with silent tread, Found oftenest in what least we dread; Frowns in the storm with angry brow, But in the sunshine strikes the blow.

God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform; He plants his footsteps in the sea, And rides upon the storm. Deep in unfathomable mines Of never failing skill He treasures up his bright designs, And works his sovereign will. Ye fearful saints fresh courage take, The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head. Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust him for his grace; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face.

O Winter, ruler of the inverted year!

I venerate the man whose heart is warm, Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life, Coincident, exhibit lucid proof That he is honest in the sacred cause.

Oh to have a lodge in some vast wilderness. Where rumors of oppression and deceit, of unsuccessful and successful wars may never reach me anymore.

Trials make the promise sweet, Trials give new life to prayer; Trials bring me to His feet, Lay me low, and keep me there.

Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa around, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in

God forbid that Judges upon their oath should make resolutions to enlarge jurisdiction.

My soul is sick with every day's report of wrong and outrage with which earth is filled.

No traveler e'er reached that blest abode who found not thorns and briers in his road.

Ceremony leads her bigots forth, prepared to fight for shadows of no worth. While truths, on which eternal things depend, can hardly find a single friend.

The nurse sleeps sweetly, hired to watch the sick, / whom, snoring, she disturbs.

And, of all lies (be that one poet's boast) / The lie that flatters I abhor the most.

Blest be the art that can immortalize,--the art that baffles time's tyrannic claim to quench it.