Glory, built on selfish principles, is shame and guilt.
WILLIAM COWPERGod moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform. He plants his footsteps in the sea, and rides upon the storm.
More William Cowper Quotes
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To impute our recovery to medicine, and to carry our view no further, is to rob God of His honor, and is saying in effect that He has parted with the keys of life and death, and, by giving to a drug the power to heal us, has placed our lives out of His own reach.
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There is mercy in every place. And mercy, encouraging thought gives even affliction a grace and reconciles man to his lot.
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Great offices will have great talents, and God gives to every man the virtue, temper, understanding, taste, that lifts him into life, and lets him fall just in the niche he was ordained to fill.
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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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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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Absence from whom we love is worse than death, and frustrates hope severer than despair.
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No traveler e’er reached that blest abode who found not thorns and briers in his road.
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Manner is all in all, whate’er is writ,The substitute for genius, sense, and wit.
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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
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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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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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It chills my blood to hear the blest Supreme Rudely appealed to on each trifling theme.
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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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Books are not seldom talismans and spells.
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Remorse, the fatal egg that pleasure laid.
WILLIAM COWPER






