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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.

Related Topics

Bitter Bud God Interpreter Olan Sweet Taste Unbelief Vain Will

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Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

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

Acceptance Found Thorns Traveler
The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower.
WILLIAM COWPER

Bitter Bud Flower Sweet Taste
How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude! But grant me still a friend in my retreat, whom I may whisper, solitude is sweet.
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Friend Grant Loneliness Pas Retreat Solitude Sweet Whisper
Trials make the promise sweet, Trials give new life to prayer; Trials bring me to His feet, Lay me low, and keep me there.
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We turn to dust, and all our mightiest works die too.
WILLIAM COWPER

Death Die Dust Mightiest Turn Work
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.
WILLIAM COWPER

Cease Christian Fight Fighting Prayer Restrain
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

Country Fault Love May Mind Still
War’s a game, which, were their subjects wise, Kings would not play at.
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Game King Ply Subject War Wise
Habits are soon assumed; but when we strive to strip them off, ’tis being flayed alive.
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Alive Assume Being Flayed Habit Strive
When nations are to perish in their sins, ’tis in the Church the leprosy begins.
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Begin Church Leprosy Nation Perish Sin
Variety’s the very spice of life, That gives it all its flavor.
WILLIAM COWPER

Flavor Giving Inspire Life Spice Variety
Books are not seldom talismans and spells.
WILLIAM COWPER

Book Seldom Spell
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.
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Doctrine Hand Heart Life Man Pure Venerate
Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees, Rock’d in the cradle of the western breeze.
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Hand Rock Spring Tree
Pleasure is labour too, and tires as much.
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Labor Much Pleasure Tire Tries
Satire is, more than those he brands, to blame; He hides behind a magisterial air He own offences, and strips others’ bare.
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Bare Behind Blamer Brand Magisterial More Offense Own Satire Strip

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