William Cowper ( 10 of 184 )
I venerate the man whose heart is warm,
Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life,
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I venerate the man whose heart is warm,
Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life,
Coincident, exhibit lucid proof
That he is honest in the sacred cause.
For 'tis a truth well known to most,
That whatsoever thing is lost,
We seek it, ere read more
For 'tis a truth well known to most,
That whatsoever thing is lost,
We seek it, ere it comes to light,
In every cranny but the right.
Words pregnant with celestial fire.
Words pregnant with celestial fire.
I praise the Frenchman; his remark was shrewd,--
"How sweet, how passing sweet is solitude."
But grant read more
I praise the Frenchman; his remark was shrewd,--
"How sweet, how passing sweet is solitude."
But grant me still a friend in my retreat,
Whom I may whisper--Solitude is sweet.
How much a dunce that has been sent to roam, excels a dunce that has been kept at home.
How much a dunce that has been sent to roam, excels a dunce that has been kept at home.
Pleasure admitted in undue degree
Enslaves the will, nor leaves the judgment free.
Pleasure admitted in undue degree
Enslaves the will, nor leaves the judgment free.
So that the jest is clearly to be seen,
Not in the words--but in the gap between;
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So that the jest is clearly to be seen,
Not in the words--but in the gap between;
Manner is all in all, whate'er is writ,
The substitute for genius, sense, and wit.
Would I describe a preacher,
. . . .
I would express him simple, grave, sincere;
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Would I describe a preacher,
. . . .
I would express him simple, grave, sincere;
In doctrine uncorrupt; in language plain,
And plain in manner; decent, solemn, chaste,
And natural in gesture; much impress'd
Himself, as conscious of his awful charge,
And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds
May feel it too; affectionate in look,
And tender in address, as well becomes
A messenger of grace to guilty men.
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.
