John Greenleaf Whittier Quotes - Page 4

One brave deed makes no hero.

Autumn, in his leafless bowers, is waiting for the winter's snow.

With smoking axle hot with speed, with steeds of fire and steam, Wide-waked To-day leaves Yesterday behind him like a dream. Still, from the hurrying train of Life, fly backward far and fast The milestones of the fathers, the landmarks of the past. But human hearts remain unchanged: the sorrow and the sin, The loves and hopes and fears of old, are to our own akin; And if, in tales our fathers told, the songs our mothers sung, Tradition wears a snowy beard, Romance is always young.

The great eventful Present hides the Past; but through the din Of its loud life hints and echoes from the life behind steal in.

For still in mutual sufferance lies The secret of true living; Love scarce is love that never knows The sweetness of forgiving.

From purest wells of English undefiled None deeper drank than he, the New World's Child, Who in the language of their farm field spoke The wit and wisdom of New England folk.

Let the thick curtain fall;I better know than allHow little I have gained,How vast the unattained.

Bathsheba! to whom none ever said scat- No worthier cat Ever sat on a mat, Or caught a rat. Requiescat!

Truth is one; And, in all lands beneath the sun, Whoso hath eyes to see may see The tokens of its unity.

O brother man! fold to thy heart thy brother; Where pity dwells, the peace of God is there; To worship rightly is to love each other, Each smile a hymn, each kindly deed a prayer.

From the death of the old the new proceeds, and the life of truth from the death of creeds.

A faint blush melting through the light of thy transparent cheek like a rose-leaf bathed in dew.

Leaning on Him, make with reverent meekness His own thy will.

Others may sing the song. Others may right the wrong.

What moistens the lip and what brightens the eye? What calls back the past like the rich pumpkin pie?

If thou of fortune be bereft, and in thy store there be but left two loaves, sell one, and with the dole, buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.

The continuity of life is never broken; the river flows onward and is lost to our sight, but under its new horizon it carries the same waters which it gathered under ours, and its unseen valleys are made glad by the offerings which are borne down to them from the past,--flowers, perchance, the germs of which its own waves had planted on the banks of Time.

God should be most where man is least: So, where is neither church nor priest, And never rag nor form of creed To clothe the nakedness of need,- Where farmer folk in silence meet,- I turn my bell-unsummoned feet; I lay the critic's glass aside, I tread upon my lettered pride, And, lowest-seated, testify To the oneness of humanity; Confess the universal want, And share whatever Heaven may grant. He findeth not who seeks his own, The soul is lost that's saved alone.

What is good looking, as Horace Smith remarks, but looking good? Be good, be womanly, be gentle,-generous in your sympathies, heedful of the well-being of all around you; and, my word for it, you will not lack kind words of admiration.

Reason's voice and God's, Nature's and Duty's, never are at odds.

Who fathoms the Eternal Thought? Who talks of scheme and plan? The Lord is God! He needeth not The poor device of man.

So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn Which once he wore; The glory from his gray hairs gone For evermore!

Our toil is sweet with thankfulness, Our burden is our boon; The curse of earth's gray morning is The blessing of its noon.

Nature speaks in symbols and in signs.

When earth as if on evil dreams Looks back upon her wars, And the white light of Christ outstreams From the red disc of Mars, His fame, who led the stormy van Of battle, well may cease; But never that which crowns the man Whose victory was peace.