Quote

I seem forsaken and alone, / I hear the lion roar / And every door is shut but one, / And that is Mercy's door.

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
Mercy
Door
Doors
Forsaken
Seem
Roar
Hear
Lion
Alone
Lions
Seems
Shut
Every
Loneliness

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Some to the fascination of a name, Surrender judgment hoodwinked.
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It chills my blood to hear the blest Supreme Rudely appealed to on each trifling theme.
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Detested sport, That owes its pleasures to another's pain.
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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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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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The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower.
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Learning itself, received into a mind By nature weak, or viciously inclined, Serves but to lead philosophers astray, Where children would with ease discern the way.
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Tis Providence alone secures In every change both mine and yours.
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Sin let loose speaks punishment at hand.
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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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Solitude, seeming a sanctuary, proves a grave a sepulchre in which the living lie, where all good qualities grow sick and die
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Lights of the world, and stars of human race.
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Not a flower But shows some touch, in freckle, streak or stain, Of his unrivall'd pencil. He inspires Their balmy odors, and imparts their hues, And bathes their eyes with nectar, and includes In grains as countless as the seaside sands, The forms with which he sprinkles all the earth Happy who walks with him!
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An epigram is but a feeble thing - With straw in tail, stuck there by way of sting.
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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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A moral, sensible, and well-bred manWill not affront me, and no other can.
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