Quote

Heaven speed the canvas, gallantly unfurl'd, To furnish and accommodate a world, To give the Pole the produce of the sun, And knit the unsocial climates into one.

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
Produce
Knit
Heaven
Pole
Give
Accommodate
Giving
Canvas
World
Ships
Unsocial
Speed
Unfurl
Climate
Climates
Sun
Furnish

More quotes by William Cowper

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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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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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Go, mark the matchless working of the power That shuts within the seed the future flower Bids these in elegance of form excel. In color these, and those delight the smell Sends nature forth, the daughter of the skies, To dance on earth, and charm all human eyes.
William Cowper
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Toil for the brave! The brave that are no more.
William Cowper
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Fate steals along with silent tread, Found oftenest in what least we dread Frowns in the storm with angry brow, But in the sunshine strikes the blow.
William Cowper
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Religion, if in heavenly truths attired, Needs only to be seen to be admired.
William Cowper
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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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In the vast, and the minute, we see The unambiguous footsteps of the God, Who gives its lustre to an insect's wing And wheels His throne upon the rolling worlds.
William Cowper
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Absence of occupation is not rest A mind quite vacant is a mind distressed.
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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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The solemn fop significant and budge A fool with judges, amongst fools a judge
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The still small voice is wanted.
William Cowper
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Could he with reason murmur at his case, Himself sole author of his own disgrace?
William Cowper
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Built God a church and laughed His word to scorn.
William Cowper
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In man or woman, but far most in man, And most of all in man that ministers, And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn: Object of my implacable disgust.
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Admirals extolled for standing still, or doing nothing with a deal of skill.
William Cowper
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An epigram is but a feeble thing - With straw in tail, stuck there by way of sting.
William Cowper
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I venerate the man whose heart is warm, Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life, Coincident, exhibit lucid proof That he is honest in the sacred cause.
William Cowper
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When from soft love proceeds the deep distress, ah! why forbid the willing tears to flow?
William Cowper
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Remorse, the fatal egg by pleasure laid, In every bosom where her nest is made, Hatched by the beams of truth, denies him rest, And proves a raging scorpion in his breast.
William Cowper