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So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan which moves To that mysterious realm where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one that wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. William Cullen Bryant		Thursday Jun 11, 2026
		Quotes: 53419 Authors: 9969

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So, when a raging fever burns, We shift from side to side by turns; And 't is a poor relief we gain To change the place, but keep the pain. Isaac Watts

Quote Author: Isaac Watts

	Isaac Watts
	Isaac Watts (July 17, 1674 - November 25, 1748) is recognised as the "Father of English Hymnody", as he was the first prolific and popular English hymnwriter, credited with some 750 hymns. Many of his hymns remain in active use today and have been translated into many languages. Read More

Other Isaac Watts Quotes

Time, like an ever-rolling stream, Bears all its sons away; They fly forgotten, as a dream Dies at the opening day.

How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower!

But, children, you should never let Such angry passions rise; Your little hands were never made To tear each other's eyes.

To be angry about trifles is mean and childish; to rage and be furious is brutish; and to maintain perpetual wrath is akin to the practice and temper of devils; but to prevent and suppress rising resentment is wise and glorious, is manly and divine.

We shall be strong to run the race, And climb the upper sky.

When I can read my title clear To mansions in the skies, I'll bid farewell to every fear, And wipe my weeping eyes.

Birds in their little nests agree; And 'tis a shameful sight When children of one family Fall out, and chide, and fight.

In books, or work, or healthful play.

A flower, when offered in the bud, Is no vain sacrifice.

Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound.

To God the Father, God the Son, And God the Spirit, Three in One, Be honour, praise, and glory given By all on earth, and all in heaven.

Whene'er I take my walks abroad, How many poor I see! What shall I render to my God For all his gifts to me?

Strange that a harp of thousand strings Should keep in tune so long!

There is a land of pure delight, Where saints immortal reign; Infinite day excludes the night, And pleasures banish pain.

The tall, the wise, the reverend head Must lie as low as ours.

Kind words toward those you daily meet, Kind words and actions right, Will make this life of ours most sweet, Turn darkness into night.

'T is the voice of the sluggard; I heard him complain, 'You have wak'd me too soon, I must slumber again.'

I have been there, and still would go; 'T is like a little heaven below.

Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber! Holy angels guard thy bed! Heavenly blessings without number Gently falling on thy head.

And he that does one fault at first And lies to hide it, makes it two.

Were I so tall to reach the pole, Or grasp the ocean with my span, I must be measured by my soul: The mind 's the standard of the man.

For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do.

Lord, in the morning thou shalt hear My voice ascending high.

So, when a raging fever burns, We shift from side to side by turns; And 't is a poor relief we gain To change the place, but keep the pain.

From all who dwell below the skies Let the Creator's praise arise; Let the Redeemer's name be sung Through every land, by every tongue.

To prevent and suppress rising resentment is wise and glorious, is manly and divine.

And while the lamp holds out to burn, The vilest sinner may return.

Fly, like a youthful hart or roe, Over the hills where spices grow.

Let dogs delight to bark and bite, For God hath made them so; Let bears and lions growl and fight, For 't is their nature too.

Earth, thou great footstool of our God, who reigns on high; thou fruitful source of all our raiment, life, and food; our house, our parent, and our nurse.

Do not expect to arrive at certainty in every subject which you pursue. There are a hundred things wherein we mortals ... must be content with probability, where our best light and reasoning will reach no farther.

Do not hover always on the surface of things, nor take up suddenly, with mere appearances; but penetrate into the depth of matters, as far as your time and circumstances allow, especially in those things which relate to your profession.