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And let these altars, wreathed with flowers And piled with fruits, awake again Thanksgivings for the golden hours, The early and the latter rain!
John Greenleaf Whittier
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John Greenleaf Whittier
Age: 84 †
Born: 1807
Born: December 17
Died: 1892
Died: September 7
Journalist
Lawyer
Poet
Writer
Haverhill
Massachusetts
Fruit
Wreathed
Rain
Piled
Flower
Altars
Early
Fruits
Hours
Latter
Awake
Flowers
Golden
More quotes by John Greenleaf Whittier
For still in mutual sufferance lies The secret of true living Love scarce is love that never knows The sweetness of forgiving.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Better heresy of doctrine than heresy of heart.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Again the blackbirds sings the streams Wake, laughing, from their winter dreams, And tremble in the April showers The tassels of the maple flowers.
John Greenleaf Whittier
They who wander widest lift No more of beauties' jealous veils, Than they who from their doorways see The miracle of flowers and trees.
John Greenleaf Whittier
With silence only as their benediction, God's angels come Where in the shadow of a great affliction, The soul sits dumb!
John Greenleaf Whittier
Low stir of leaves and dip of oars And lapsing waves on quiet shores.
John Greenleaf Whittier
God is good and God is light In this faith I rest secure, Evil can but serve the right, Over all shall love endure.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Rest if you must, but never quit.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Leaning on Him, make with reverent meekness His own thy will.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Thee lift me, and I lift thee, and together we ascend.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Flowers spring to blossom where she walks The careful ways of duty Our hard, stiff lines of life with her Are flowing curves of beauty.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Simple duty hath no place for fear.
John Greenleaf Whittier
The sun that brief December day Rose cheerless over hills of gray, And, darkly circled, gave at noon A sadder light than waning moon.
John Greenleaf Whittier
The hope of all earnest souls must be realized.
John Greenleaf Whittier
The age is dull and mean. Men creep, Not walk with blood too pale and tame To pay the debt they owe to shame Buy cheap, sell dear eat. drink, and sleep down-pillowed, deaf to moaning want Pay tithes for soul-insurance keep Six days to Mammon, one to Cant
John Greenleaf Whittier
Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard! Heap high the golden corn! No richer gift has Autumn poured From out her lavish horn!
John Greenleaf Whittier
Thine to work as well as pray, Clearing thorny wrongs away Plucking up the weeds of sin, Letting heaven's warm sunshine in.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Beneath the winter's snow lie germs of summer flowers.
John Greenleaf Whittier
And step by step, since time began, I see the steady gain of man.
John Greenleaf Whittier
God blesses still the generous thought,And still the fitting word He speeds,And Truth, at His requiring taught,He quickens into deeds.
John Greenleaf Whittier
