Quote

A Christian's wit is offensive light, A beam that aids, but never grieves the sight Vig'rous in age as in the flush of youth, 'Tis always active on the side of truth.

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
Never
Youth
Flush
Side
Beam
Sides
Grieving
Age
Offensive
Christian
Wit
Light
Aids
Truth
Active
Rous
Always
Sight
Grieves

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She that asks Her dear five hundred friends, contemns them all, And hates their coming.
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But slaves that once conceive the glowing thought Of freedom, in that hope itself possess All that the contest calls for spirit, strength, The scorn of danger, and united hearts, The surest presage of the good they seek.
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Lights of the world, and stars of human race.
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A story, in which native humour reigns, Is often useful, always entertains A graver fact, enlisted on your side, May furnish illustration, well applied But sedentary weavers of long tales Give me the fidgets, and my patience fails.
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Pleasure admitted in undue degree, enslaves the will, nor leaves the judgment free.
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Did Charity prevail, the press would prove A vehicle of virtue, truth, and love.
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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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Religion Caesar never knew Thy posterity shall sway, Where his eagles never flew, None as invincible as they.
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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.
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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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Most satirists are indeed a public scourge Their mildest physic is a farrier's purge Their acrid temper turns, as soon as stirr'd, The milk of their good purpose all to curd. Their zeal begotten, as their works rehearse, By lean despair upon an empty purse.
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Man on the dubious waves of error toss'd.
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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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But oars alone can ne'er prevail To reach the distant coast The breath of Heaven must swell the sail, Or all the toil is lost.
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Knowledge is proud that it knows so much wisdom is humble that it knows no more.
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Vice stings us even in our pleasures, but virtue consoles us even in our pains.
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Men deal with life as children with their play, Who first misuse, then cast their toys away.
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Man may dismiss compassion from his heart, but God never will.
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How much a dunce that has been sent to roam, excels a dunce that has been kept at home.
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The only amarantine flower on earth Is virtue.
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