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Satirists do expose their own ill nature.

Isaac Watts

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Isaac Watts
Age: 74 †
Born: 1674
Born: July 17
Died: 1748
Died: November 25
Hymnwriter
Philosopher
Poet
Theologian
Writer
Southampton
Hampshire
Isaac Watts
Satirists
Satirist
Expose
Satire
Ill
Nature

More quotes by Isaac Watts

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Acquaint yourself with your own ignorance.
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In works of labour or of skillI would be busy too:For Satan finds some mischief stillFor idle hands to do.
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Earth, thou great footstool of our God, who reigns on high thou fruitful source of all our raiment, life, and food our house, our parent, and our nurse.
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What's amiss I'll strive to mend,And endure what can't be mended.
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For Satan always finds some mischief still for idle hands to do.
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There is a land of pure delight, Where saints immortal reign Infinite day excludes the night, And pleasures banish pain.
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Fancy and humour, early and constantly indulged in, may expect an old age overrun with follies.
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Though reading and conversation may furnish us with many ideas of men and things, yet it is our own meditation must form our judgment.
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The stars, that in their courses roll, Have much instruction given But Thy good Word informs my soul How I may climb to Heaven.
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When I can read my title clear To mansions in the skies, I'll bid farewell to every fear, And wipe my weeping eyes.
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If I could reach from pole to pole or grasp the ocean with a span, I would be measured by the soul The mind's the standard of the Man.
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Roses grow on thorns and honey wears a sting.
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In books, or work, or healthful play.
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I write not for your farthing, but to try. How I your farthing writers, may outvie.
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How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower!
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Flies, worms, and flowers exceed me still.
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Kind words toward those you daily meet, Kind words and actions right, Will make this life of ours most sweet, Turn darkness into night.
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Lord, what a thoughtless wretch was I, To mourn, and murmur and repine, To see the wicked placed on high, In pride and robes of honor shine. But oh, their end, their dreadful end, Thy sanctuary taught me so, On slipp'ry rocks I see them stand, And fiery billows roll below.
Isaac Watts
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Love is amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all.
Isaac Watts
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A hermit who has been shut up in his cell in a college has contracted a sort of mould and rust upon his soul.
Isaac Watts