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As if the world and they were hand and glove.

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
Glove
Gloves
Hypocrisy
Hand
Hands
World

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The only amaranthine flower on earth is virtue the only lasting treasure, truth.
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That good diffused may more abundant grow.
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A lawyer's dealings should be just and fair Honesty shines with great advantage there.
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The darkest day, if you live till tomorrow, will have passed away.
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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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When all within is peace How nature seems to smile Delights that never cease The live-long day beguile
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To trace in Nature's most minute design The signature and stamp of power divine. ... The Invisible in things scarce seen revealed, To whom an atom is an ample field.
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The art of poetry is to touch the passions, and its duty to lead them on the side of virtue.
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I am out of humanity's reach.I must finish my journey alone,Never hear the sweet music of speechI start at the sound of my own.
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Ten thousand casks, Forever dribbling out their base contents, Touch'd by the Midas finger of the state, Bleed gold for ministers to sport away. Drink, and be mad then 'tis your country bids!
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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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The proud are ever most provoked by pride.
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England, with all thy faults I love thee still, My country!
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Restraining prayer, we cease to fight Prayer keeps the Christian's armor bright And Satan trembles when he sees The weakest saint upon his knees.
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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. His purposes will ripen fast, Unfolding every hourThe bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flow’r. Blind unbelief is sure to err And scan His work in vain God is His own interpreter, And He will make it plain.
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Whoever keeps an open ear For tattlers will be sure to hear The trumpet of contention.
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Admirals extolled for standing still, or doing nothing with a deal of skill.
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But what is truth? 'Twas Pilate's question put To Truth itself, that deign'd him no reply.
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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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Without one friend, above all foes, Britannia gives the world repose.
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