John Greenleaf Whittier Quotes

178 Sourced Quotes

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

John Greenleaf Whittier
Ah! on Thanksgiving day, when from east and from west,
From North and from South come the pilgrim and guest.

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

John Greenleaf Whittier
And Autumn in his leafless bowers is waiting for the winter's snow.

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

John Greenleaf Whittier
Perish with him the folly that seeks through evil good.

John Greenleaf Whittier
The craven's fear is but selfishness, like his merriment.

John Greenleaf Whittier
As pure and sweet, her fair brow seemed
Eternal as the sky:
And like the brook's low song, her voice, —
A sound which could not die.

John Greenleaf Whittier
So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on,
And Maud was left in the field alone.
But the lawyers smiled that afternoon,
When he hummed in court an old love-tune

John Greenleaf Whittier
The hope of all who suffer,
The dread of all who wrong.

John Greenleaf Whittier
Low stir of leaves and dip of oars
And lapsing waves on quiet shores.

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

John Greenleaf Whittier
Autumn's earliest frost had given
To the woods below
Hues of beauty, such as heaven
Lendeth to its bow;
And the soft breeze from the west
Scarcely broke their dreamy rest.

John Greenleaf Whittier
Formed on the good old plan,
A true and brave and downright honest man!
He blew no trumpet in the market-place,
Nor in the church with hypocritic face
Supplied with cant the lack of Christian grace;
Loathing pretense, he did with cheerful will
What others talked of while their hands were still.

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
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
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
Strike! Thou the Master, we Thy keys,
The anthem of the destinies!
The minor of Thy loftier strain,
Our hearts shall breathe the old refrain —
"Thy will be done!"

John Greenleaf Whittier
Oh, for boyhood's time of June,
Crowding years in one brief moon,
When all things I heard or saw,
Me, their master, waited for.

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
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
The harp at Nature's advent strung
Has never ceased to play;
The song the stars of morning sung
Has never died away.

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
So let it be in God's own might
We gird us for the coming fight,
And, strong in Him whose cause is ours
In conflict with unholy powers,
We grasp the weapons He has given, —
The Light, and Truth, and Love of Heaven.

John Greenleaf Whittier
And lo! the fullness of the time has come,
And over all the exile's western home,
From sea to sea the flowers of freedom bloom!

John Greenleaf Whittier
Leaning on Him, make with reverent meekness His own thy will.

John Greenleaf Whittier
We lack but open eye and ear
To find the Orient's marvels here;
The still small voice in autumn's hush,
Yon maple wood the burning bush.

John Greenleaf Whittier
We wait for thy coming, sweet wind of the south!
For the touch of thy light wings, the kiss of thy mouth;
For the yearly evangel thou bearest from God,
Resurrection and life to the graves of the sod!

John Greenleaf Whittier