William Cowper

Praise enough
To fill the ambition of a private man,
That Chatham's language was his mother-tongue.

Praise enough
To fill the ambition of a private man,
That Chatham's language was his mother-tongue.

Hast thou not learn'd what thou art often told,
A truth still sacred, and believed of old,
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Hast thou not learn'd what thou art often told,
A truth still sacred, and believed of old,
That no success attends on spears and swords
Unblest, and that the battle is the Lord's?

The sinews of affairs are cut.

The sinews of affairs are cut.

As creeping ivy clings to wood or stone,
And hides the ruin that it feeds upon.

As creeping ivy clings to wood or stone,
And hides the ruin that it feeds upon.

And Satan trembles when he sees
The weakest saint upon his knees.

And Satan trembles when he sees
The weakest saint upon his knees.