Tis liberty alone that gives the flower Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume; And we are weeds without it.
WILLIAM COWPERThere is mercy in every place. And mercy, encouraging thought gives even affliction a grace and reconciles man to his lot.
More William Cowper Quotes
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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.
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Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one, Have oft-times no connection.
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I will pray, therefore, for blessings on my friends, even though they cease to be so, and upon my enemies, though they continue such.
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After long drought when rains abundant fall, He hears the herbs and flowers rejoicing all.
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Ye therefore who love mercy, teach your sons to love it, too.
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Ye fearful saints fresh courage take, The clouds you so much dread Are big with mercy and shall break, With blessings on your head
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When nations are to perish in their sins, ’tis in the Church the leprosy begins.
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A self-made man? Yes, and one who worships his creator.
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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,
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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.
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War’s a game, which, were their subjects wise, Kings would not play at.
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What peaceful hours I once enjoy’d! How sweet their memory still! But they have left an aching void The world can never fill.
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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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Perhaps thou gav’st me, though unseen, a kiss; Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss.
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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.
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Absence of occupation is not rest; A mind quite vacant is a mind distressed.
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Remorse begets reform.
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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.
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A life of ease is a difficult pursuit.
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Blind unbelief is sure to err, And scan his work in vain; God is his own interpreter, And he will make it plain.
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Pride made the devil, and the devil made sin; So God made a cole-pit to put the devil in.
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Events of all sorts creep or fly exactly as God pleases.
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Knowledge dwells In heads replete with thoughts of other men; Wisdom in minds attentive to their own.
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Still ending, and beginning still.
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Grief is itself a medicine.
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This fond attachment to the well-known place Whence first we started into life’s long race.
WILLIAM COWPER