We turn to dust, and all our mightiest works die too.
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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Far happier are the dead methinks than they who look for death and fear it every day.
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The only true happiness comes from squandering ourselves for a purpose.
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The innocent seldom find an uncomfortable pillow.
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Unless a love of virtue light the flame,
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Remorse, the fatal egg that pleasure laid.
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Variety’s the very spice of life, That gives it all its flavor.
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Men deal with life as children with their play, Who first misuse, then cast their toys away.
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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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Satan trembles when he sees the weakest saint upon their knees.
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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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Grief is itself a medicine.
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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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There is in souls a sympathy with sounds.
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Heaven’s harmony is universal love.
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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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Still ending, and beginning still.
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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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When nations are to perish in their sins, ’tis in the Church the leprosy begins.
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And works his sovereign will. Ye fearful saints fresh courage take, The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head.
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The bird that flutters least is longest on the wing.
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While truths, on which eternal things depend, can hardly find a single friend.
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Built God a church and laughed His word to scorn.
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This fond attachment to the well-known place Whence first we started into life’s long race.
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Absence from whom we love is worse than death, and frustrates hope severer than despair.
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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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Glory, built on selfish principles, is shame and guilt.
WILLIAM COWPER