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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.

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Frowned Grace Judge Judging Lord Trust

Bagwalas

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

In a fleshly tomb, I am buried above ground.
WILLIAM COWPER

Above Buried Flesh Ground Tomb
Solitude, seeming a sanctuary, proves a grave; a sepulchre in which the living lie, where all good qualities grow sick and die
WILLIAM COWPER

Good Grow Living Lying Quality Sanctuary Sick Solitude
[My kitten’s] gambols are not to be described, and would be incredible, if they could.
WILLIAM COWPER

Cat Describe Fambol Incredible Kitten
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.
WILLIAM COWPER

Alone Heaven Lost Oar Prevail Toil
Elegant as simplicity, and warm As ecstasy.
WILLIAM COWPER

Ecstasy Elegant Simplicity Warm
Truth is the golden girdle of the globe.
WILLIAM COWPER

Globe Golden Griddle Truth
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust him for his grace; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face.
WILLIAM COWPER

Behind Face Frowning Grace Hide Judge Lord Providence Sense
Absence of occupation is not rest.
WILLIAM COWPER

Absence Happen Occupation Rest
Grief is itself a medicine.
WILLIAM COWPER

Death Grief Itself Medicine Pain
Accomplishments have taken virtue’s place, and wisdom falls before exterior grace.
WILLIAM COWPER

Exterior Fall Grace Place Taken Wisdom
We turn to dust, and all our mightiest works die too.
WILLIAM COWPER

Death Die Dust Mightiest Turn Work
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

Bosom Eggs Fatal Laid Made Nest Pleasure Remorse Scorpions
There is a pleasure in poetic pains / Which only poets know.
WILLIAM COWPER

Pain Pleasure Poet Poetic Poetry
I seem forsaken and alone, / I hear the lion roar; / And every door is shut but one, / And that is Mercy’s door.
WILLIAM COWPER

Alone Door Every Forsaken Hera Lion Loneliness Mercy One Shut
Perhaps thou gav’st me, though unseen, a kiss; Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss.
WILLIAM COWPER

Bliss Kissing Soul Tear Unseen Weep
Pleasure admitted in undue degree, enslaves the will, nor leaves the judgment free.
WILLIAM COWPER

Admit Degrees Enslave Judgment Leave Pleasure

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