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Man may dismiss compassion from his heart, but God never will.

William Cowper

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William Cowper
Age: 68 †
Born: 1731
Born: November 26
Died: 1800
Died: April 25
Hymnwriter
Poet
Poet Lawyer
Translator
Writer
Berkhamsted
Hertfordshire
May
Heart
Never
Men
Dismiss
God
Compassion

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The earth was made so various, that the mind Of desultory man, studious of change, And pleased with novelty, might be indulged.
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Grief is itself a medicine.
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Unmissed but by his dogs and by his groom.
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There is a mixture of evil in everything we do indulgence encourages us to encroach, while we Crabbe exercise the rights of children, we become childish.
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All we behold is miracle.
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Admirals extolled for standing still, or doing nothing with a deal of skill.
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Philologists, who chase A painting syllable through time and space Start it at home, and hunt it in the dark, To Gaul, to Greece, and into Noah's Ark.
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In indolent vacuity of thought.
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How readily we wish time spent revoked, that we might try the ground again where once--through inexperience, as we now perceive--we missed that happiness we might have found!
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Stamps God's own name upon a lie just made, To turn a penny in the way of trade.
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Defend me, therefore, common sense, say From reveries so airy, from the toil Of dropping buckets into empty wells, And growing old in drawing nothing up.
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When scandal has new-minted an old lie, Or tax'd invention for a fresh supply, 'Tis call'd a satire, and the world appears Gathering around it with erected ears A thousand names are toss'd into the crowd, Some whisper'd softly, and some twang'd aloud, Just as the sapience of an author's brain, Suggests it safe or dangerous to be plain.
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[My kitten] is dressed in a tortoise-shell suit, and I know you will delight in her.
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E'er since, by faith, I saw the stream thy flowing wounds supply, redeeming love has been my theme, and shall be till I die.
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But, oh, Thou bounteous Giver of all good, Thou art, of all Thy gifts, Thyself thy crown!
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Who loves a garden loves a greenhouse too.
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Remorse, the fatal egg that pleasure laid.
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Pernicious weed! whose scent the fair annoys, Unfriendly to society's chief joys: Thy worst effect is banishing for hours The sex whose presence civilizes ours.
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The few that pray at all pray oft amiss.
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Heaven's harmony is universal love.
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