|
When I consider how my light is spent E're half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one Talent which is death to hide, Lodg'd with me useless, though my Soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, least he returning chide, Doth God exact day-labour, light deny'd, I fondly ask; But patience to prevent That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts, who best Bear his milde yoak, they serve him best, his State Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed And post o're Land and Ocean without rest: They also serve who only stand and waite.
Go to Quote / Comment
|
|
So he with difficulty and labour hard Moved on, with difficulty and labour he;...
Go to Quote / Comment
|
|
To measure life learn thou betimes, and know Toward solid good what leads the nearest way;...
Go to Quote / Comment
|
|
Hail wedded love, mysterious law, true source Of human offspring, sole propriety,...
Go to Quote / Comment
|
|
He who reigns within himself and rules his passions, desires, and fears is more than a king.
Go to Quote / Comment
|