Maxioms by William Cowper
O Winter! ruler of the inverted year,
. . . .
I crown thee king of intimate read more
O Winter! ruler of the inverted year,
. . . .
I crown thee king of intimate delights,
Fireside enjoyments, home-born happiness,
And all the comforts that the lowly roof
Of undisturb'd Retirement, and the hours
Of long uninterrupted evening, know.
Thus happiness depends, as nature shows, less on exterior things than most suppose.
Thus happiness depends, as nature shows, less on exterior things than most suppose.
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.
Feast of Etheldreda, Abbess of Ely, c.678 O for a closer walk with God, A calm and heavenly frame, read more
Feast of Etheldreda, Abbess of Ely, c.678 O for a closer walk with God, A calm and heavenly frame, A light to shine upon the road That leads me to the Lamb Return, O holy Dove, return, Sweet messenger of rest! I hate the sins that made Thee mourn And drove Thee from my breast The dearest idol I have known, Whate'er that idol be, Help me to tear it from Thy throne, And worship only Thee. So shall my walk be close with God, Calm and serene my frame; So purer light shall mark the road That leads me to the Lamb.
Our wasted oil unprofitably burns,
Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns.
Our wasted oil unprofitably burns,
Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns.
