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Evil, be thou my good.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Thou
Evil
Good

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If there be any difference among professed believers as to the sense of Scripture, it is their duty to tolerate such difference in each other, until God shall have revealed the truth to all.
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And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light.
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Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls his watery labyrinth, which whoso drinks forgets both joy and grief.
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Here the great art lies, to discern in what the law is to be to restraint and punishment, and in what things persuasion only is to work.
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Evil into the mind of god or man may come and go, so unapproved, and leave no spot or blame behind.
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It is not virtue, wisdom, valour, wit, Strength, comeliness of shape, or amplest merit, That woman's love can win, or long inherit But what it is, hard is to say, Harder to hit.
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The nodding horror of whose shady brows Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger.
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Fame is the last infirmity of the human mind.
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His spear, to equal which the tallest pine Hewn on Norwegian hills to be the mast Of some great ammiral were but a wand, He walk'd with to support uneasy steps Over the burning marle.
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Knowledge forbidden? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord Envy them that? Can it be sin to know, Can it be death? And do they only stand By ignorance? Is that their happy state, The proof of their obedience and their faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Their ruin!
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So glistered the dire Snake , and into fraud Led Eve, our credulous mother, to the Tree Of Prohibition, root of all our woe.
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The end then of learning is to repair the ruins of our first parents by regaining to know God aright, and out of that knowledge to love him, to imitate him, to be like him, as we may the nearest by possessing our souls of true virtue, which being united to the heavenly grace of faith makes up the highest perfection.
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Where eldest Night And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold Eternal anarchy amidst the noise Of endless wars, and by confusion stand For hot, cold, moist, and dry, four champions fierce, Strive here for mast'ry.
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Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise. That last infirmity of noble mind. To scorn delights, and live laborious days.
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Witness this new-made world, another Heav'n From Heaven Gate not farr, founded in view On the clear Hyaline, the Glassie Sea Of amplitude almost immense, with Starr's Numerous, and every Starr perhaps a world Of destined habitation.
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Yet much remains To conquer still peace hath her victories No less renowned then war, new foes arise Threatening to bind our souls with secular chains: Help us to save free conscience from the paw Of hireling wolves whose gospel is their maw.
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Now came still evening on and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad: Silence accompanied for beast and bird, They to they grassy couch, these to their nests, Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale.
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Our torments also may in length of time Become our elements, these piercing fires As soft as now severe, our temper changed Into their temper.
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Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heav'n.
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The planets in their station list'ning stood.
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