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O, popular applause! what heart of man is proof against thy sweet, seducing charms?

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
Popular
Proof
Sweet
Heart
Men
Seducing
Charms
Applause
Charm

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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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Fanaticism, the false fire of an overheated mind.
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That good diffused may more abundant grow.
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Did Charity prevail, the press would prove A vehicle of virtue, truth, and love.
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There is in souls a sympathy with sounds: And as the mind is pitch'd the ear is pleased With melting airs, or martial, brisk or grave Some chord in unison with what we hear Is touch'd within us, and the heart replies.
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God never meant that man should scale the Heavens By strides of human wisdom. In his works, Though wondrous, he commands us in his word To seek him rather where his mercy shines.
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In indolent vacuity of thought.
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There is in souls a sympathy with sounds.
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But animated nature sweeter still, to soothe and satisfy the human ear.
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The kindest and the happiest pair Will find occasion to forbear And something, every day they live, To pity, and perhaps forgive.
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But slaves that once conceive the glowing thought Of freedom, in that hope itself possess All that the contest calls for spirit, strength, The scorn of danger, and united hearts, The surest presage of the good they seek.
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God moves in mysterious ways His wonders to performs
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The darkest day, if you live till tomorrow, will have passed away.
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Manner is all in all, whate'er is writ,The substitute for genius, sense, and wit.
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The rich are too indolent, the poor too weak, to bear the insupportable fatigue of thinking.
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Mountains interposed Make enemies of nations, who had else Like kindred drops been mingled into one.
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O Winter! ruler of the inverted year, . . . I crown thee king of intimate delights, Fireside enjoyments, home-born happiness, And all the comforts that the lowly roof Of undisturbed Retirement, and the hours Of long uninterrupted evening, know.
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Pleasure is labour too, and tires as much.
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No tree in all the grove but has its charms, Though each its hue peculiar.
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A fool must now and then be right, by chance
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