Absence of proof is not proof of absence.
WILLIAM COWPERA heretic, my dear sir, is a fellow who disagrees with you regarding something neither of you knows anything about.
More William Cowper Quotes
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Man may dismiss compassion from his heart, but God never will.
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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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…So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
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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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Events of all sorts creep or fly exactly as God pleases.
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Ye therefore who love mercy, teach your sons to love it, too.
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Absence of occupation is not rest.
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He finds his fellow guilty of a skin Not color’d like his own, and having pow’r T’ enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey.
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But still remember, if you mean to please, To press your point with modesty and ease.
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Absence from whom we love is worse than death, and frustrates hope severer than despair.
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The only amarantine flower on earth Is virtue.
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It chills my blood to hear the blest Supreme Rudely appealed to on each trifling theme.
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And the tear that is wiped with a little address, May be follow’d perhaps by a smile.
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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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Reasoning at every step he treads, Man yet mistakes his way, Whilst meaner things, whom instinct leads, Are rarely known to stray.
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Solitude, seeming a sanctuary, proves a grave; a sepulchre in which the living lie, where all good qualities grow sick and die
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Satan trembles when he sees the weakest saint upon their knees.
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Grief is itself a medicine.
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Glory, built on selfish principles, is shame and guilt.
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The cares of today are seldom those of tomorrow, and when we lie down at night we may safely say to most of our troubles, “Ye have done your worst, and we shall see you no more.”
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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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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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God made the country, and man made the town.
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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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Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees, Rock’d in the cradle of the western breeze.
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Happy the man who sees a God employed in all the good and ills that checker life.
WILLIAM COWPER