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Freedom's soil hath only place For a free and fearless race!

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
Fearless
Hath
Soil
Race
Freedom
Free
Place

More quotes by John Greenleaf Whittier

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What does the good ship bear so well? The cocoa-nut with its stony shell, And the milky sap of its inner cell.
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The simple heart that freely asks in love, obtains.
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And I will trust that He who heeds The life that hides in mead and wold, Who hangs you alder's crimson beads, And stains these mosses green and gold, Will still, as He hath done, incline His gracious care to me and mine.
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Simple duty hath no place for fear.
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The good is always beautiful, the beautiful is good!
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O Time and change! - with hair as gray as was my sire's that winter day, how strange it seems, with so much gone of life and love, to still live on!
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Small leisure have the poor for grief.
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The hope of all earnest souls must be realized.
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Press bravely onward! - not in vainYour generous trust in human kindThe good which bloodshed could not gainYour peaceful zeal shall find.
John Greenleaf Whittier
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Give lettered pomp to teeth of Time, So Bonnie Doon but tarry Blot out the epic's stately rhyme, But spare his Highland Mary!
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Again the blackbirds sings the streams Wake, laughing, from their winter dreams, And tremble in the April showers The tassels of the maple flowers.
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Every chain that spirits wear crumbles in the breadth of prayer.
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Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard! Heap high the golden corn! No richer gift has Autumn poured From out her lavish horn!
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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
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Thee lift me, and I lift thee, and together we ascend.
John Greenleaf Whittier
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Low stir of leaves and dip of oars And lapsing waves on quiet shores.
John Greenleaf Whittier
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Nothing before, nothing behind The steps of faith Fall on the seeming void, and find The Rock beneath.
John Greenleaf Whittier
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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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He is wisest, who only gives, True to himself, the best he can: Who drifting on the winds of praise, The inward monitor obeys. And with the boldness that confuses fear Takes in the crowded sail, and lets his conscience steer.
John Greenleaf Whittier
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Before me, even as behind, God is, and all is well.
John Greenleaf Whittier