John Bowring, fully Sir John Bowring

Bowring, fully Sir John Bowring

English Statesman, Political Economist, Polyglot and Governor of Hong Kong

Author Quotes

There is in every human heart some not completely barren part, where seeds of truth and love might grow, and flowers of generous virtue flow; to plant, to watch, to water there, this be our duty, be our care.

A happy family is but an earlier heaven.

FROM the recesses of a lowly spirit
My humble prayer ascends: O Father! hear it.
Upsoaring on the wings of fear and meekness,
Forgive its weakness.

I know, I feel, how mean and how unworthy
The trembling sacrifice I pour before thee;
What can I offer in thy presence holy,
But sin and folly?

For in thy sight, who every bosom viewest,
Cold are our warmest vows and vain our truest;
Thoughts of a hurrying hour; our lips repeat them,
Our hearts forget them.

We see thy hand—it leads us, it supports us;
We hear thy voice—it counsels and it courts us;
And then we turn away—and still thy kindness
Pardons our blindness.

And still thy rain descends, thy sun is glowing,
Fruits ripen round, flowers are beneath us blowing,
And, as if man were some deserving creature,
Joys cover nature. 20

Oh how long-suffering, Lord! but thou delightest
To win with love the wandering; thou invitest
By smiles of mercy, not by frowns or terrors,
Man from his errors.

Who can resist thy gentle call, appealing
To every generous thought and grateful feeling?
That voice paternal whispering, watching ever,
My bosom?—never.

Father and Saviour! plant within that bosom
These seeds of holiness; and bid them blossom
In fragrance and in beauty bright and vernal,
And spring eternal.

Then place them in those everlasting gardens
Where angels walk, and seraphs are the wardens;
Where every flower that creeps through death’s dark portal
Becomes immortal.

Chance and change are busy ever;
Man decays, and ages move;
But His mercy waneth never;
God is wisdom, God is love

Now the noon,
Wearied with sultry toil, declines and falls,
Into the mellow eve:--the west puts on
Her gorgeous beauties--palaces and halls,
And towers, all carv'd of the unstable cloud,
Welcome the calmly waning monarch--he
Sinks gently midst that glorious canopy
Down on his couch of rest--even like a proud
King of the Earth--the ocean.

Sleep is no servant of the will; it has caprices of its own; when courted most, it lingers still; when most pursued, 'tis swiftly gone.

The talents lost--the moments run
To waste--the sins of act, of thought,
Ten thousand deeds of folly done,
And countless virtues cherish'd not.

There is a land where everlasting suns
Shed everlasting brightness; where the soul
Drinks from the living streams of love that roll
By God's high throne! myriads of glorious ones
Bring their accepted offering. Oh! how blest
To look from this dark prison to that shrine,
To inhale one breath of Paradise divine,
And enter into that eternal rest
Which waits the sops of God.

He that studies to know duty, and labors in all things to do it, will have two heavens - one of joy, peace and comfort on earth, and the other of glory and happiness beyond the grave.

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Bowring, fully Sir John Bowring
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English Statesman, Political Economist, Polyglot and Governor of Hong Kong