A Quote by Robert Browning

Be sure that God Ne'er dooms to waste the strength he deigns impart. — © Robert Browning
Be sure that God Ne'er dooms to waste the strength he deigns impart.
Such night in England ne'er had been, nor ne'er again shall be.
Alas! the praise given to the ear Ne'er was nor ne'er can be sincere.
I ne'er could any lustre see In eyes that would not look on me; I ne'er saw nectar on a lip But where my own did hope to sip.
Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate, Who ne'er the mournful midnight hours Weeping upon his bed has sate, He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers.
Wouldst thou wisely, and with pleasure, Pass the days of life's short measure, From the slow one counsel take, But a tool of him ne'er make; Ne'er as friend the swift one know, Nor the constant one as foe.
Ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, is peace.
Tis strange the miser should his cares employTo gain those riches he can ne'er enjoy;Is it less strange the prodigal should wasteHis wealth to purchase what he ne'er can taste?
And lips say “God be pitiful,” Who ne'er said “God be praised.”
But there are wanderers o'er Eternity Whose bark drives on and on, and anchor'd ne'er shall be.
I'll ne'er distrust my God for cloth and bread while lilies flourish and the raven 's fed.
A foe to God ne'er was true friend to man, Some sinister intent taints all he does.
This is my Father's world: O let me ne'er forget That though the wrong Seems oft so strong, God is the Ruler yet.
Virtue, the strength and beauty of the soul, Is the best gift of Heaven: a happiness That even above the smiles and frowns of fate Exalts great Nature's favourites: a wealth That ne'er encumbers, nor can be transferr'd.
"There is no God," the foolish saith, But none, "There is no sorrow." And nature oft the cry of faith In bitter need will borrow: Eyes which the preacher could not school, By wayside graves are raised; And lips say, "God be pitiful," Who ne'er said, "God be praised."
Sing songs that none have sung, think thoughts that ne'er in the brain have rung, Walk in paths that none have trod, weep tears as none have shed for God, Give peace to all to whom none other gave, Claim him your own who's everywhere disclaimed. Love all with love that none have felt and Brave the battle of life with strength unchained.
Fro and to in my dreams to you To the haunting tune of the harp For the price I paid when you died that day I paid that day with my heart Fro and to in my dreams to you With the breaking of my heart Ne'er more again will I sing this song Ne'er more will I hear the harp.
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