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Falsehoods which we spurn today, were the truths of long ago.
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
Spurn
Falsehoods
Falsehood
Truths
Today
Long
More quotes by John Greenleaf Whittier
Love hath never known a law beyond its own sweet will.
John Greenleaf Whittier
I dimly guess, from blessings known, of greater out of sight.
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Through the dark and stormy night Faith beholds a feeble light Up the blackness streaking Knowing God's own time is best, In a patient hope I rest For the full day-breaking!
John Greenleaf Whittier
There's life alone in duty done, And rest alone in striving.
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The tints of autumn...a mighty flower garden blossoming under the spell of the enchanter, frost.
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And step by step, since time began, I see the steady gain of man.
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Romance is always young.
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Tradition wears a snowy beard, romance is always young.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn
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God is good and God is light In this faith I rest secure, Evil can but serve the right, Over all shall love endure.
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The sooner we recognize the fact that the mercy of the Almighty extends to every creature endowed with life, the better it will be for us as men and Christians.
John Greenleaf Whittier
All day the darkness and the cold Upon my heart have lain Like shadows on the winter sky Like frost upon the pane
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The still, sad music of humanity.
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I know not where His islands lift Their fronded palms in air I only know I cannot drift Beyond His love and care.
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Small leisure have the poor for grief.
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A little smile, a word of cheer, A bit of love from someone near, A little gift from one held dear, Best wishes for the coming year. These make a merry christmas!
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Around the mighty master came The marvels which his pencil wrought, Those miracles of power whose fame Is wide as human thought.
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Thine to work as well as pray, Clearing thorny wrongs away Plucking up the weeds of sin, Letting heaven's warm sunshine in.
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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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Up from the sea, the wild north wind is blowing, under the sky's gray arch. Smiling, I watch the shaken elm boughs, knowing It is the wind of March.
John Greenleaf Whittier