John Greenleaf Quotes & Sayings
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Top John Greenleaf Quotes

All day the darkness and the cold
Upon my heart have lain
Like shadows on the winter sky
Like frost upon the pane — John Greenleaf Whittier

The sun that brief December day Rose cheerless over hills of gray, And, darkly circled, gave at noon A sadder light than waning moon. — John Greenleaf Whittier

What airs outblown from ferny dells And clover-bloom and sweet brier smells. — John Greenleaf Whittier

We shape ourselves the joy or fear
Of which the coming life is made,
And fill our Future's atmosphere
With sunshine or with shade. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, 'It might have been. — John Greenleaf Whittier

And still we love the evil cause
And of the just effect complain;
We tread upon life's broken laws
And murmur at our self-inflicted pain. — John Greenleaf Whittier

And the more you spend in blessing The poor and lonely and sad,
The more of your heart's possessing
Returns to you glad. — John Greenleaf Whittier

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

Somewhat of goodness, something true
From sun and spirit shining through
All faiths, all worlds, as through the dark
Of ocean shines the lighthouse spark,
Attests the presence everywhere
Of love and providential care. — John Greenleaf Whittier

We meet today To thank Thee for the era done, And Thee for the opening one. — John Greenleaf Whittier

With warning hand I mark Time's rapid flight,
From Life's glad morning to its solemn night;
Yet, through the dear Lord's love, I also show
There's light above me by the shade I throw. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Give fools their gold, and knaves their power; let fortune's bubbles rise and fall; who sows a field, or trains a flower, or plants a tree, is more than all. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Round the boles of the pine-wood the ground-laurel creeps, Unkissed of the sunshine, unbaptized of showers, With buds scarcely swelled, which should burst into flowers! — John Greenleaf Whittier

With our sympathy for the wrongdoer we need the old Puritan and Quaker hatred of wrongdoing; with our just tolerance of men and opinions a righteous abhorrence of sin. — John Greenleaf Whittier

It is no use trying to sum people up. One must follow hints, not exactly what is said, nor yet entirely what is done. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Better heresy of doctrine than heresy of heart. — John Greenleaf Whittier

The slave will be free. Democracy in America will yet be a glorious reality; and when the top-stone of that temple of freedom which our fathers left unfinished shall be brought forth with shoutings and cries of grace unto it, when our now drooping Liberty lifts up her head and prospers, happy will he be who can say, with John Milton, "Among those who have something more than wished her welfare, I, too, have my charter and freehold of rejoicing to me and my heirs." — John Greenleaf Whittier

Drop Thy still dews of quietness, Till all our strivings cease; Take from our souls the strain and stress, And let our ordered lives confess The beauty of Thy peace. — John Greenleaf Whittier

And I will trust that He who heeds
The life that hides in mead and wold,
Who hangs you alder's crimson beads,
And stains these mosses green and gold,
Will still, as He hath done, incline
His gracious care to me and mine. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Sweeter than any sungMy songs that found no tongue;Nobler than any factMy wish that failed of act.Others shall sing the song,Others shall right the wrong,-Finish what I begin,And all I fail of win. — John Greenleaf Whittier

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

Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard! Heap high the golden corn! No richer gift has Autumn poured From out her lavish horn! — John Greenleaf Whittier

The Fates are just: they give us but our own; Nemesis ripens what our hands have sown. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Swan flocks of lilies shoreward lying, In sweetness, not in music, dying. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Falsehoods which we spurn today, were the truths of long ago. — John Greenleaf Whittier

The good is always beautiful, the beautiful is good! — John Greenleaf Whittier

Nature eschews regular lines; she does not shape her lines by a common model. Not one of Eve's numerous progeny in all respects resembles her who first culled the flowers of Eden. To the infinite variety and picturesque inequality of nature we owe the great charm of her uncloying beauty. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Thine to work as well as pray, Clearing thorny wrongs away; Plucking up the weeds of sin, Letting heaven's warm sunshine in. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Every chain that spirits wear crumbles in the breadth of prayer. — John Greenleaf Whittier

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

Beauty seen is never lost, God's colors all are fast. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Tradition wears a snowy beard, romance is always young. — John Greenleaf Whittier

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

Along the river's summer walk,
The withered tufts of asters nod;
And trembles on its arid stalk
the hoar plum of the golden-rod. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Small leisure have the poor for grief. — John Greenleaf Whittier

I hear the tread of pioneers
Of nations yet to be,
The first low wash of waves where soon
Shall roll a human sea. — John Greenleaf Whittier

It is well for us if we have learned to listen to the sweet persuasion of the Beatitudes, but there are crises in all lives which require also the emphatic "Thou shalt not" of the decalogue which the founders wrote on the gateposts of their commonwealth. — John Greenleaf Whittier

And one there was, a dreamer born,
Who, with a mission to fulfill,
Had left the Muses' haunts to turn
The crank of an opinion-mill,
Making his rustic reed of song
A weapon in the war with wrong, ...
A Tent on the Beach — John Greenleaf Whittier

God's providence is not blind, but full of eyes. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Behind the cloud the starlight lurks,
Through showers the sunbeams fall;
For God, who loveth all His works,
Has left His hope with all! — John Greenleaf Whittier

If woman lost us Eden, such As she alone restore it. — John Greenleaf Whittier

They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead, that all of thee we loved and cherished has with thy summer roses perished; and left, as its young beauty fled, an ashen memory in its stead. — John Greenleaf Whittier

With silence only as their benediction, God's angels come Where in the shadow of a great affliction, The soul sits dumb! — John Greenleaf Whittier

Press bravely onward! - not in vainYour generous trust in human kind;The good which bloodshed could not gainYour peaceful zeal shall find. — John Greenleaf Whittier

God is good and God is light In this faith I rest secure, Evil can but serve the right, Over all shall love endure. — John Greenleaf Whittier

The green earth sends her incense up. From many a mountain shrine; From folded leaf and dewey cup She pours her sacred wine. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Rap, rap! upon the well-worn stone, How falls the polished hammer! Rap, rap! the measured sound has grown A quick and merry clamor. Now shape the sole! now deftly curl The glassy vamp around it, And bless the while the bright-eyed girl Whose gentle fingers bound it! — John Greenleaf Whittier

Like warp and woof all destinies
Are woven fast,
Linked in sympathy like the keys
Of an organ vast.
Pluck one thread, and the web ye mar;
Break but one
Of a thousand keys, and the paining jar
Through all will run. — John Greenleaf Whittier

At what point does a man turn into a monster? I don't believe that it's when he does horrible things, but when he accepts that he's able to do them, and that he does them well. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Nature speaks in symbols and in signs. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Here Greek and Roman find themselves alive along these crowded shelves; and Shakespeare treads again his stage, and Chaucer paints anew his age. — John Greenleaf Whittier

For still the new transcends the old In signs and tokens manifold; Slaves rise up men; the olive waves, With roots deep set in battle graves! — John Greenleaf Whittier

Dear Lord and Father of mankind, Forgive our foolish ways! Re-clothe us in our rightful mind, In purer lives thy service find, In deeper reverence praise — John Greenleaf Whittier

But let the good old corn adorn
The hills our fathers trod;
Still let us, for his golden corn,
Send up our thanks to God! — John Greenleaf Whittier

Yet, in the maddening maze of things, And tossed by storm and flood, To one fixed trust my spirit clings; I know that God is good! — John Greenleaf Whittier

The Present, the Present is all thou hast
For thy sure possessing;
Like the patriarch's angel hold it fast
Till it gives its blessing. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Beauty is its own excuse. — John Greenleaf Whittier

The sooner we recognize the fact that the mercy of the Almighty extends to every creature endowed with life, the better it will be for us as men and Christians. — John Greenleaf Whittier

God gives quietness at last. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Simple duty hath no place for fear. — John Greenleaf Whittier

A grateful loving heart carries with it, under every parallel of latitude, the warmth and light of the tropics. It plants its Eden in the wilderness and solitary place, and sows with flowers the gray desolation of rock and mosses. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Who never wins can rarely lose, Who never climbs as rarely falls — John Greenleaf Whittier

God's ways seem dark, but, soon or late, They touch the shining hills of day; The evil cannot brook delay, The good can well afford to wait, Give ermined knaves their hour of crime; Yet have the future grand and great, The safe appeal of Truth to Time! — John Greenleaf Whittier

Around the mighty master came
The marvels which his pencil wrought,
Those miracles of power whose fame
Is wide as human thought. — John Greenleaf Whittier

The laws of changeless justice bind oppressor and oppressed; and, close as sin and suffering joined we march to fate abreast. — John Greenleaf Whittier

The hope of all earnest souls must be realized. — John Greenleaf Whittier

The still, sad music of humanity. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn — John Greenleaf Whittier

Again the blackbirds sings; the streams Wake, laughing, from their winter dreams, And tremble in the April showers The tassels of the maple flowers. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Once more the liberal year laughs out O'er richer stores than gems or gold: Once more with harvest song and shout Is nature's boldest triumph told. — John Greenleaf Whittier

The Beauty which old Greece or RomeSung, painted, wrought, lies close at home. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Oh, talk as we may of beauty as a thing to be chiselled from marble or wrought out on canvas, speculate as we may upon its colors and outlines, what is it but an intellectual abstraction, after all? The heart feels a beauty of another kind; looking through the outward environment, it discovers a deeper and more real love-liness. — John Greenleaf Whittier

No longer forward or behind
I look in hope or fear,
But grateful, take the good I find,
The best of now and here. — John Greenleaf Whittier

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. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Give lettered pomp to teeth of Time, So "Bonnie Doon" but tarry; Blot out the epic's stately rhyme, But spare his "Highland Mary!" — John Greenleaf Whittier

So all night long the storm roared on:
The morning broke without a sun;
In tiny spherule traced with lines
Of Nature's geometric signs,
In starry flake, and pellicle,
All day the hoary meteor fell;
And, when the second morning shone,
We looked upon a world unknown,
On nothing we could call our own.
Around the glistening wonder bent
The blue walls of the firmament,
No cloud above, no earth below,
A universe of sky and snow! — John Greenleaf Whittier

I know not where his islands lift Their fronded palms in air; I only know I cannot drift Beyond his love and care. — John Greenleaf Whittier

In kindly showers and sunshine bud The branches of the dull gray wood; Out from its sunned and sheltered nooks The blue eye of the violet looks. — John Greenleaf Whittier

The learned are not agreed as to the time when the Gospel of John was written; some dating it as early as the year 68, others as late as the year 98; but it is generally conceded to have been written after all the others. — Simon Greenleaf

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

Despair is infidelity and death. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Up from the sea, the wild north wind is blowing, under the sky's gray arch. Smiling, I watch the shaken elm boughs, knowing It is the wind of March. — John Greenleaf Whittier

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. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Before me, even as behind, God is, and all is well. — John Greenleaf Whittier

Freedom's soil hath only place For a free and fearless race! — John Greenleaf Whittier

As a small businessperson, you have no greater leverage than the truth. — John Greenleaf Whittier

The windows of my soul I throw
Wide open to the sun. — John Greenleaf Whittier