Skins may differ, but affection Dwells in white and black the same.
WILLIAM COWPERThe 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.
More William Cowper Quotes
-
-
When nations are to perish in their sins, ’tis in the Church the leprosy begins.
WILLIAM COWPER -
Knowledge dwells In heads replete with thoughts of other men; Wisdom in minds attentive to their own.
WILLIAM COWPER -
Blest be the art that can immortalize,–the art that baffles time’s tyrannic claim to quench it.
WILLIAM COWPER -
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;
WILLIAM COWPER -
Sends Nature forth the daughter of the skies… To dance on earth, and charm all human eyes.
WILLIAM COWPER -
The bird that flutters least is longest on the wing.
WILLIAM COWPER -
A fool must now and then be right, by chance
WILLIAM COWPER -
Perhaps thou gav’st me, though unseen, a kiss; Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss.
WILLIAM COWPER -
Glory, built on selfish principles, is shame and guilt.
WILLIAM COWPER -
England with all thy faults, I love thee still– My country! and, while yet a nook is left Where English minds and manners may be found, Shall be constrained to love thee.
WILLIAM COWPER -
Far happier are the dead methinks than they who look for death and fear it every day.
WILLIAM COWPER -
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
WILLIAM COWPER -
God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform. He plants his footsteps in the sea, and rides upon the storm.
WILLIAM COWPER -
What is there in the vale of lifeHalf so delightful as a wife;When friendship, love and peace combineTo stamp the marriage-bond divine?
WILLIAM COWPER -
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.
WILLIAM COWPER