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Lived in his saddle, loved the chase, the course, And always, ere he mounted, kiss'd his horse.

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
Kiss
Kissing
Horse
Lived
Loved
Mounted
Courses
Saddle
Course
Saddles
Always
Chase

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Fancy, like the finger of a clock, Runs the great circuit, and is still at home.
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The beggarly last doit.
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The Spirit breathes upon the Word and brings the truth to sight.
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To impute our recovery to medicine, and to carry our view no further, is to rob God of His honor, and is saying in effect that He has parted with the keys of life and death, and, by giving to a drug the power to heal us, has placed our lives out of His own reach.
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Call'd to the temple of impure delight He that abstains, and he alone, does right. If a wish wander that way, call it home He cannot long be safe whose wishes roam.
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Fanaticism, the false fire of an overheated mind.
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Unmissed but by his dogs and by his groom.
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There is mercy in every place. And mercy, encouraging thought gives even affliction a grace and reconciles man to his lot.
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Hast thou not learnd what thou art often told, A truth still sacred, and believed of old, That no success attends on spears and swords Unblest, and that the battle is the Lords?
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Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds, Exhilirate the spirit, and restore The tone of languid nature.
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Admirals extolled for standing still, or doing nothing with a deal of skill.
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Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, but trust Him for His grace Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face.
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He finds his fellow guilty of a skin Not color'd like his own, and having pow'r T' enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey.
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Give what thou canst, without Thee we are poor And with Thee rich, take what Thou wilt away.
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Twere better to be born a stone Of ruder shape, and feeling none, Than with a tenderness like mine And sensibilities so fine! Ah, hapless wretch! condemn'd to dwell Forever in my native shell, Ordained to move when others please, Not for my own content or ease But toss'd and buffeted about, Now in the water and now out.
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God moves in mysterious ways His wonders to performs
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