Contentment. - Philippians iv.11.

Fierce passions discompose the mind,
As tempests vex the sea:
But calm content and peace we find,
When, Lord, we turn to thee.


In vain by reason and by rule
We try to bend the will;
For none but in the Saviours school
Can learn the heavenly skill.


Since at his feet my soul has sat,
His gracious words to hear,
Contented with my present state,
I cast on him my care.


Art thou a sinner, soul? he said,
Then how canst thou complain?
How light thy troubles here, if weighd
With everlasting pain!


If thou of murmuring wouldst be cured,
Compare thy griefs with mine;
Think what my love for thee endured,
And thou wilt not repine.


Tis I appoint thy daily lot,
And I do all things well;
Thou soon shalt leave this wretched spot,
And rise with me to dwell.


In life my grace shall strength supply,
Proportiond to thy day;
At death thou still shalt find me nigh,
To wipe thy tears away.


Thus I, who once my wretched days
In vain repinings spent,
Taught in my Saviours school of grace,
Have learnt to be content.

William Cowper

William Cowper was an English poet and hymnodist known for his contributions to English literature and the Evangelical revival of the 18th century. He suffered from periods of severe depression and mental illness, which influenced much of his work. Despite his struggles, Cowper produced notable works including 'Olney Hymns' in collaboration with John Newton and 'The Task,' which gained considerable popularity. His poetry is often characterized by its introspective, religious, and sometimes melancholic themes.

William Cowper

Elegy II. On The Death Of The University Beadle At Cambridge.[1]

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

Jehovah Our Righteousness. - Jeremiah xxiii.6.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

On Observing Some Names Of Little Note Recorded In The Biographia Britannica.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

To Mary.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Peace After A Storm.

When darkness long has veild my mind,
And smiling day once more appears;
Then, my Redeemer, then I find
The folly of my doubts and fears.


Straight I upbraid my wandering heart,
And blush that I should ever be
Thus prone to act so base a part,
Or harbour one hard thought of thee!


Oh! let me then at length be taught
What I am still so slow to learn;
That God is love, and changes not,
Nor knows the shadow of a turn.


Sweet truth, and easy to repeat!
But, when my faith is sharply tried,
I find myself a learner yet,
Unskilful, weak, and apt to slide.


But, O my Lord, one look from thee
Subdues the disobedient will;
Drives doubt and discontent away,
And thy rebellious worm is still.


Thou ...

William Cowper

Mourning And Longing.

The Saviour hides his face!
My spirit thirsts to prove
Renewd supplies of pardoning grace,
And never-fading love.


The favourd souls who know
What glories shine in him,
Pant for his presence as the roe
Pants for the living stream!


What trifles tease me now!
They swarm like summer flies,
They cleave to everything I do,
And swim before my eyes.


How dull the Sabbath-day,
Without the Sabbaths Lord!
How toilsome then to sing and pray,
And wait upon the word!


Of all the truths I hear,
How few delight my taste!
I glean a berry here and there,
But mourn the vintage past.


Yet let me (as I ought)
Still hope to be supplied;
No pleasure else is worth a thought,
Nor shall I be ...

William Cowper

True Pleasures.

Lord, my soul with pleasure springs,
When Jesus name I hear;
And when God the Spirit brings
The word of promise near:
Beauties too, in holiness,
Still delighted I perceive;
Nor have words that can express
The joys thy precepts give.


Clothed in sanctity and grace,
How sweet it is to see
Those who love thee as they pass,
Or when they wait on thee:
Pleasant too, to sit and tell
What we owe to love divine;
Till our bosoms grateful swell,
And eyes begin to shine.


Those the comforts I possess,
Which God shall still increase,
All his ways are pleasantness,^[1]
And all his paths are peace.
Nothing Jesus did or spoke,
Henceforth let me ever slight;
For I love his easy yoke,^[2]
And find his...

William Cowper

Joy And Peace In Believing.

Sometimes a light surprises
The Christian while he sings;
It is the Lord who rises
With healing in his wings:
When comforts are declining,
He grants the soul again
A season of clear shining,
To cheer it after rain.


In holy contemplation,
We sweetly then pursue
The theme of Gods salvation,
And find it ever new.
Set free from present sorrow,
We cheerfully can say,
Een let the unknown to-morrow^[1]
Bring with it what it may.


It can bring with it nothing,
But he will bear us through;
Who gives the lilies clothing,
Will clothe his people too;
Beneath the spreading heavens
No creature but is fed;
And he who feeds the ravens,
Will give his children bread.


The vine nor fig-tree nei...

William Cowper

Self-Acquaintance.

Dear Lord! accept a sinful heart,
Which of itself complains,
And mourns, with much and frequent smart,
The evil it contains.


There fiery seeds of anger lurk,
Which often hurt my frame;
And wait but for the tempters work,
To fan them to a flame.


Legality holds out a bribe
To purchase life from thee;
And discontent would fain prescribe
How thou shalt deal with me.


While unbelief withstands thy grace,
And puts the mercy by;
Presumption, with a brow of brass,
Says, Give me, or I die.


How eager are my thoughts to roam
In quest of what they love!
But ah! when duty calls them home,
How heavily they move!


Oh, cleanse me in a Saviours blood,
Transform me by thy power,
And make...

William Cowper

An Epistle To An Afflicted Protestant Lady In France.

Madam,A strangers purpose in these lays
Is to congratulate, and not to praise.
To give the creature the Creators due
Were sin in me, and an offence to you.
From man to man, or een to woman paid,
Praise is the medium of a knavish trade,
A coin by craft for follys use designd,
Spurious, and only current with the blind.
The path of sorrow, and that path alone,
Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown;
No traveller ever reachd that blest abode,
Who found not thorns and briers in his road.
The world may dance along the flowery plain,
Cheerd as they go by many a sprightly strain,
Where Nature has her mossy velvet spread,
With unshod feet they yet securely tread,
Admonishd, scorn the caution and the friend,
Bent all on pleasure, heedless of its end.

William Cowper