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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A man renowned for repartee will seldom scruple to make free with friendship's finest feeling, will thrust a dagger at your breast, and say he wounded you in jest, by way of balm for healing.
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That good diffused may more abundant grow.
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Events of all sorts creep or fly exactly as God pleases.
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... she, that will with kittens jest, Should bear a kitten's joke.
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Anticipated rents, and bills unpaid, Force many a shining youth into the shade, Not to redeem his time, but his estate, And play the fool, but at the cheaper rate.
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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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If a great man struggling with misfortunes is a noble object, a little man that despises them is no contemptible one.
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O solitude, where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms, Than reign in this horrible place.
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I am monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute, From the centre all round to the sea, I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
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O, popular applause! what heart of man is proof against thy sweet, seducing charms?
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Remorse begets reform.
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But still remember, if you mean to please, To press your point with modesty and ease.
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What is there in the vale of lifeHalf so delightful as a wifeWhen friendship, love and peace combineTo stamp the marriage-bond divine?
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A noisy man is always in the right.
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What is it but a map of busy life, Its fluctuations, and its vast concerns?
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Ever let the Fancy roam, Pleasure never is at home.
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Sends Nature forth the daughter of the skies... To dance on earth, and charm all human eyes.
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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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There is in souls a sympathy with sounds.
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And in that hour, The seeds of cruelty, that since have swell'd To such gigantic and enormous growth, Were sown in human nature's fruitful soil. Hence date the persecution and the pain That man inflicts on all inferior kinds, Regardless of their plaints.
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