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We turn to dust, and all our mightiest works die too.

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
Death
Mightiest
Dust
Works
Turn
Dies
Turns

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The parable of the prodigal son, the most beautiful fiction that ever was invented our Saviour's speech to His disciples, with which He closed His earthly ministrations, full of the sublimest dignity and tenderest affection, surpass everything that I ever read and like the spirit by which they were dictated, fly directly to the heart.
William Cowper
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Necessity invented stools, Convenience next suggested elbow-chairs, And luxury the accomplish'd Sofa last.
William Cowper
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As creeping ivy clings to wood or stone, And hides the ruin that it feeds upon, So sophistry, cleaves close to, and protects Sin's rotten trunk, concealing its defects.
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Scenes must be beautiful which daily view'd Please daily, and whose novelty survives Long knowledge and the scrutiny of years.
William Cowper
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But animated nature sweeter still, to soothe and satisfy the human ear.
William Cowper
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I pity bashful men, who feel the pain Of fancied scorn and undeserved disdain, And bear the marks upon a blushing face, OF needless shame, and self-impos'd disgrace.
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Religion, if in heavenly truths attired, Needs only to be seen to be admired.
William Cowper
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O Winter, ruler of the inverted year!
William Cowper
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Some drill and bore The solid earth, and from the strata there Extract a register, by which we learn, That he who made it, and reveal'd its date To Moses, was mistaken in its age.
William Cowper
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The still small voice is wanted.
William Cowper
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Blest be the art that can immortalize,--the art that baffles time's tyrannic claim to quench it.
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For when was public virtue to be found Where private was not?
William Cowper
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Some men make gain a fountain, whence proceeds A stream of liberal and heroic deeds The swell of pity, not to be confined Within the scanty limits of the mind.
William Cowper
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Misery still delights to trace Its semblance in another's case.
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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She that asks Her dear five hundred friends, contemns them all, And hates their coming.
William Cowper
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The Cross! There, and there only (though the deist rave, and the atheist, if Earth bears so base a slave) There and there only, is the power to save.
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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There is in souls a sympathy with sounds: And as the mind is pitch'd the ear is pleased With melting airs, or martial, brisk or grave Some chord in unison with what we hear Is touch'd within us, and the heart replies.
William Cowper
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He that has seen both sides of fifty has lived to little purpose if he has no other views of the world than he had when he was much younger.
William Cowper