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?
WILLIAM COWPERCeremony leads her bigots forth, prepared to fight for shadows of no worth.
More William Cowper Quotes
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Deep in unfathomable mines Of never failing skill He treasures up his bright designs,
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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.
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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.
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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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Perhaps thou gav’st me, though unseen, a kiss; Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss.
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Thus happiness depends, as nature shows, less on exterior things than most suppose.
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God made bees, and bees made honey, God made man, and man made money,
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Events of all sorts creep or fly exactly as God pleases.
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Absence of occupation is not rest.
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The Spirit breathes upon the Word and brings the truth to sight.
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Built God a church and laughed His word to scorn.
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Detested sport, That owes its pleasures to another’s pain.
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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;
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What is there in the vale of lifeHalf so delightful as a wife;When friendship, love and peace combineTo stamp the marriage-bond divine?
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Sends Nature forth the daughter of the skies… To dance on earth, and charm all human eyes.
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Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one, Have oft-times no connection.
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The darkest day, if you live till tomorrow, will have passed away.
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…So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
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There is in souls a sympathy with sounds.
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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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Skins may differ, but affection Dwells in white and black the same.
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Unless a love of virtue light the flame,
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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,
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An idler is a watch that wants both hands; As useless if it goes as when it stands.
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All we behold is miracle.
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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.
WILLIAM COWPER