John Greenleaf Whittier Quotes

There is religion in everything around us, - a calm and holy religion in the unbreathing things of Nature, which man would do well to imitate.

Nothing before, nothing behind; The steps of faith Fall on the seeming void, and find The Rock beneath.

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.

This is truth the poet sings . . .

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.

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.

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

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

God gives quietness at last.

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

Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn

To be saved is only this-salvation from our own selfishness.

On leaf of palm, on sedge-wrought roll; on plastic clay and leather scroll, man wrote his thoughts; the ages passed, and lo! the Press was found at last!

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

Few have borne unconsciously the spell of loveliness.

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!

Despair is infidelity and death.

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

A charmed life old goodness hath; the tares may perish, but the grain is not for death.

Through the open door A drowsy smell of flowers -grey heliotrope And white sweet clover, and shy mignonette Comes fairly in, and silent chorus leads To the pervading symphony of Peace.

God blesses still the generous thought,And still the fitting word He speeds,And Truth, at His requiring taught,He quickens into deeds.

Romance is always young.

Happy he whose inward ear Angel comfortings can hear, O'er the rabble's laughter; And, while Hatred's fagots burn, Glimpses through the smoke discern Of the good hereafter.

What miracle of weird transforming Is this wild work of frost and light, This glimpse of glory infinite?

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

Small leisure have the poor for grief.

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.

Simple duty hath no place for fear.

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

As a small businessperson, you have no greater leverage than the truth.

His daily prayer, far better understood in acts than in words, was simply doing good.

God fills the gaps of human need, Each crisis brings its word and deed.

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!

Clothe with life the weak intent, Let me be the thing I meant.

Through the dark and stormy night Faith beholds a feeble light Up the blackness streaking; Knowing God's own time is best, In a patient hope I rest For the full day-breaking!

Oh, for boyhood's painless play, sleep that wakes in laughing day, health that mocks the doctor's rules, knowledge never learned of schools.

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.

The child must teach the man.

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.

And light is mingled with the gloom, And joy with grief; Divinest compensations come, Through thorns of judgment mercies bloom In sweet relief.

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!

And step by step, since time began, I see the steady gain of man.

God's providence is not blind, but full of eyes.

If woman lost us Eden, such As she alone restore it.

The saddest thing of word or pen, To know the things that might have been.

A true life is at once interpreter and proof of the gospel.

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

O Time and change! - with hair as gray as was my sire's that winter day, how strange it seems, with so much gone of life and love, to still live on!

The hope of all who suffer, The dread of all who wrong.

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