God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform; He plants his footsteps in the sea, And rides upon the storm. Deep in unfathomable mines Of never failing skill He treasures up his bright designs, And works his sovereign will. Ye fearful saints fresh courage take, The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head. Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust him for his grace; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face.

There is a pleasure in poetic pains / Which only poets know.

The beggarly last doit.

... she, that will with kittens jest, Should bear a kitten's joke.

If a great man struggling with misfortunes is a noble object, a little man that despises them is no contemptible one.

A fool must now and then be right, by chance

Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unseen, a kiss; Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss.