Quote

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.

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
Upon
Bright
Christian
Sees
Cease
Trembles
Saint
Restraining
Keeps
Weakest
Fight
Armor
Prayer
Satan
Fighting
Knees

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Tis Providence alone secures In every change both mine and yours.
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The cares of today are seldom those of tomorrow.
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There is a pleasure in poetic pains / Which only poets know.
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No wild enthusiast could rest, till half the world like him was possessed.
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Far happier are the dead methinks than they who look for death and fear it every day.
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But war's a game, which, were their subjects wise, Kings should not play at. Nations would do well To extort their truncheons from the puny hands Of heroes, whose infirm and baby minds Are gratified with mischief, and who spoil, Because men suffer it, their toy the world.
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O Winter, ruler of the inverted year!
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A lawyer's dealings should be just and fair Honesty shines with great advantage there.
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Sacred interpreter of human thought, How few respect or use thee as they ought! But all shall give account of every wrong, Who dare dishonor or defile the tongue Who prostitute it in the cause of vice, Or sell their glory at a market-price!
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As if the world and they were hand and glove.
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A life of ease is a difficult pursuit.
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And hast thou sworn on every slight pretence, Till perjuries are common as bad pence, While thousands, careless of the damning sin, Kiss the book's outside, who ne'er look'd within?
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Spare feast! a radish and an egg.
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We sacrifice to dress till household joys and comforts cease. Dress drains our cellar dry, and keeps our larder lean.
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The proud are ever most provoked by pride.
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Most satirists are indeed a public scourge Their mildest physic is a farrier's purge Their acrid temper turns, as soon as stirr'd, The milk of their good purpose all to curd. Their zeal begotten, as their works rehearse, By lean despair upon an empty purse.
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The innocent seldom find an uncomfortable pillow.
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But truths on which depends our main concern, That 'tis our shame and misery not to learn, Shine by the side of every path we tread With such a lustre he that runs may read.
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Blest be the art that can immortalize.
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Some to the fascination of a name, Surrender judgment hoodwinked.
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