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Reason is the glory of human nature, and one of the chief eminences whereby we are raised above our fellow-creatures, the brutes, in this lower world.

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
Nature
Chief
Reason
Chiefs
Human
Lower
Humans
Fellow
World
Fellows
Raised
Eminence
Creatures
Whereby
Glory
Brutes

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Nothing tends so much to enlarge the mind as traveling.
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In books, or work, or healthful play.
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No science is speedily learned by the noblest genius without tuition.
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Must I be carried to the skies on flowery beds of ease, while others fought to win the prize and sailed through bloody seas?
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Learn good-humor, never to oppose without just reason abate some degree of pride and moroseness.
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Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were a present far too small: Love so amazing, so divine Demands my soul, my life, my all.
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Speak softly. It is far better to rule by love than fear.Speak softly. Let no harsh words mar the good we may do here.
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And he that does one fault at first And lies to hide it, makes it two.
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I love the soul that dares tread the temptations of his years beneath his youthful feet.
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Was it for crimes that I had done He groaned upon the tree? Amazing pity! Grace unknown! And love beyond degree!
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I would not change my blest estate for all the world calls good or great.
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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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Study detains the mind by the perpetual occurrence of something new, which may gratefully strike the imagination.
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Flies, worms, and flowers exceed me still.
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To God the Father, God the Son, And God the Spirit, Three in One, Be honour, praise, and glory given By all on earth, and all in heaven.
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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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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.
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Everyday is a birthday every moment of it is new to us we are born again, renewed for fresh work and endeavor.
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Roses grow on thorns and honey wears a sting.
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For Satan always finds some mischief still for idle hands to do.
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