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The slaves of custom and established mode, With pack-horse constancy we keep the road Crooked or straight, through quags or thorny dells, True to the jingling of our leader's bells.
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
Road
Packs
Horse
Mode
Jingling
Leader
Slaves
Thorny
Keep
Bells
Dell
True
Customs
Constancy
Established
Custom
Straight
Crooked
Slave
Pack
More quotes by William Cowper
But still remember, if you mean to please, To press your point with modesty and ease.
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Man disavows, and Deity disowns me: hell might afford my miseries a shelter therefore hell keeps her ever-hungry mouths all bolted against me.
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Nature is a good name for an effect whose cause is God.
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Without one friend, above all foes, Britannia gives the world repose.
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Satan trembles when he sees the weakest saint upon their knees.
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Thus happiness depends, as nature shows, less on exterior things than most suppose.
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A life of ease is a difficult pursuit.
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He that negotiates between God and man, As God's ambassador, the grand concerns Of judgment and of mercy, should beware Of lightness in his speech.
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Where men of judgment creep and feel their way, The positive pronounce without dismay.
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To see the Law by Christ fulfilled, And hear His pardoning voice Changes a slave into a child, And duty into choice.
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And the tear that is wiped with a little address, May be follow'd perhaps by a smile.
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Laugh at all you trembled at before.
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Misery still delights to trace Its semblance in another's case.
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Truth is the golden girdle of the globe.
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I have a kitten,the drollest of all creatures that ever wore a cat's skin.
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Riches have wings, and grandeur is a dream.
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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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And diff'ring judgments serve but to declare that truth lies somewhere, if we knew but where.
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There is a mixture of evil in everything we do indulgence encourages us to encroach, while we Crabbe exercise the rights of children, we become childish.
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Th' embroid'ry of poetic dreams.
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