Quote

God made bees, and bees made honey, God made man, and man made money, Pride made the devil, and the devil made sin So God made a cole-pit to put the devil in.

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
Sin
Pride
Money
Cole
Made
Pits
Men
Bees
Providence
Honey
Devil

More quotes by William Cowper

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Oh to have a lodge in some vast wilderness. Where rumors of oppression and deceit, of unsuccessful and successful wars may never reach me anymore.
William Cowper
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Where penury is felt the thought is chain'd, And sweet colloquial pleasures are but few.
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Unless a love of virtue light the flame, Satire is, more than those he brands, to blame He hides behind a magisterial air He own offences, and strips others' bare.
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Misery still delights to trace Its semblance in another's case.
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The mind, relaxing into needful sport, Should turn to writers of an abler sort, Whose wit well managed, and whose classic style, Give truth a lustre, and make wisdom smile.
William Cowper
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An idler is a watch that wants both hands As useless if it goes as when it stands.
William Cowper
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The cares of today are seldom those of tomorrow, and when we lie down at night we may safely say to most of our troubles, Ye have done your worst, and we shall see you no more.
William Cowper
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Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa around, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in
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Defend me, therefore, common sense, say From reveries so airy, from the toil Of dropping buckets into empty wells, And growing old in drawing nothing up.
William Cowper
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This cabin, Mary, in my sight appears, Built as it has been in our waning years, A rest afforded to our weary feet, Preliminary to - the last retreat.
William Cowper
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Spare feast! a radish and an egg.
William Cowper
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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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In a fleshly tomb, I am buried above ground.
William Cowper
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When one that holds communion with the skies Has fill'd his urn where these pure waters rise, And once more mingles with us meaner things, 'Tis e'en as if an angel shook his wings.
William Cowper
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And diff'ring judgments serve but to declare that truth lies somewhere, if we knew but where.
William Cowper
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Give what thou canst, without Thee we are poor And with Thee rich, take what Thou wilt away.
William Cowper
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How shall I speak thee, or thy power address Thou God of our idolatry, the Press. . . . . Like Eden's dead probationary tree, Knowledge of good and evil is from thee.
William Cowper
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The nurse sleeps sweetly, hired to watch the sick, / whom, snoring, she disturbs.
William Cowper
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Truth is the golden girdle of the globe.
William Cowper
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Without one friend, above all foes, Britannia gives the world repose.
William Cowper