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Tis hard to find God, but to comprehend Him, as He is, is labour without end.

Robert Herrick

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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Comprehend
Labour
God
Ends
Find
Without
Hard

More quotes by Robert Herrick

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The first act's doubtful, but we say, it is the last commends the play.
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Those Saints, which God loves best, The Devil tempts not least.
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You say to me-wards your affection's strong Pray love me little, so you love me long.
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Each must in virtue strive for to excel That man lives twice that lives the first life well.
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Temptations hurt not, though they have accesse Satan o'ercomes none but by willingnesse.
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Whatever comes, let's be content withal: Among God's blessings there is no one small.
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Necessity makes dastards valiant men.
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When words we want, love teacheth to indite And what we blush to speak, she bids us write.
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In prayer the lips ne'er act the winning part, Without the sweet concurrence of the heart.
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So when or you or I are made A fable, song, or fleeting shade All love, all liking, all delight Lies drowned with us in endless night. Then while time serves, and we are but decaying Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a Maying.
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In ways to greatness think on this, That slippery all ambition is
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Next, when I cast mine eyes and see That brave vibration each way free, O how that glittering taketh me!
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It takes great wit and interest and energy to be happy. The pursuit of happiness is a great activity. One must be open and alive. It is the greatest feat man has to accomplish.
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What is a kiss? Why this, as some approve: the sure, sweet cement, glue, and lime of love.
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Some asked me where the rubies grew, And nothing I did say But with my finger pointed to The lips of Julia.
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But here's the sunset of a tedious day, These two asleep are I'll but be undrest, And so to bed. Pray wish us all good rest.
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Conquer we shall, but, we must first contend! It's not the fight that crowns us, but the end.
Robert Herrick
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Here a little child I stand, Heaving up my either hand Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to Thee, for a benison to fall on our meat, and on us all. Amen.
Robert Herrick
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Feed him ye must, whose food fills you. And that this pleasure is like raine, Not sent ye for to drowne your paine, But for to make it spring againe.
Robert Herrick
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No, not Jove Himselfe, at one time, can be wise and love.
Robert Herrick