William Cowper

Happiness makes up in height for what it lacks in length.

Happiness makes up in height for what it lacks in length.

How soft the music of those village bells,
Falling at interval upon the ear
In cadence sweet; read more

How soft the music of those village bells,
Falling at interval upon the ear
In cadence sweet; now dying all away,
Now pealing loud again, and louder still,
Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on!
With easy force it opens all the cells
Where Memory slept.

On the summit see,
The seals of office glitter in his eyes;
He climbs, he pants, he read more

On the summit see,
The seals of office glitter in his eyes;
He climbs, he pants, he grasps them! At his heels,
Close at his heels, a demagogue ascends,
And with a dexterous jerk soon twists him down,
And wins them, but to lose them in his turn.

Our wasted oil unprofitably burns,
Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns.

Our wasted oil unprofitably burns,
Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns.

Commemoration of Charles Williams, Spiritual Writer, 1945 I thirst, but not as once I did, The vain delights of earth read more

Commemoration of Charles Williams, Spiritual Writer, 1945 I thirst, but not as once I did, The vain delights of earth to share; Thy wounds, Emmanuel, all forbid That I should seek my pleasures there. It was the sight of Thy dear cross First weaned my soul from earthly things; And taught me to esteem as dross The mirth of fools, and pomp of kings. I want that grace that springs from Thee, That quickens all things where it flows; And makes a wretched thorn like me Bloom as the myrtle or the rose. Dear fountain of delight unknown! No longer sink beneath the brim, But overflow, and pour me down A living and life-giving stream! For sure, if all the plants that share The notice of Thy Father's eye, None proves less grateful to His care, Or yields Him meaner fruit than I.