Warning: Undefined array key "visitor_referer_type" in /var/www/vhosts/wordinf.com/core/app/libraries/Core.php on line 98
Friedrich Schiller - To the Gods we ne'er can...

To the Gods we ne'er can render
Praise for every good they grant;
Let us, with devotion tender,
Minister to grief and want.
Quenched be hate and wrath forever,
Pardoned be our mortal foe-
May our tears upbraid him never,
No repentance bring him low! (Friedrich Schiller)

To the Gods we ne'er can render Praise for every good they grant; Let us, with devotion tender, Minister to grief and want. Quenched be hate and wrath forever, Pardoned be our mortal foe- May our tears upbraid him never, No repentance bring him low!

Friedrich Schiller

Related topics

devotion foe forever good grant grief hate low minister mortal praise render repentance tender upbraid wrath tears gods

Related quotes

Under the pressure of the cares and sorrows of our mortal condition, men have at all times, and in all countries, called in some physical aid to their moral consolations - wine, beer, opium, brandy, or tobacco.

Edmund Burke

The true aim of our Christian life consists in the acquisition of the Holy Spirit of God. As for fasts, and vigils, and prayer, and almsgiving, and every good deed done for Christ's sake, they are only means of acquiring the Holy Spirit of God.

Seraphim of Sarov

We need to live life not only for ourselves. Pray quietly for everyone. Do not reject or humiliate anyone. Our thoughts and words have a powerful impact on the world around us. Pray with tears for everyone - for the sick, the weak, for the sinners. Pray for those who have no one to pray for them.

Nikolay Guryanov

His shroud was damp, his face was white: He said,-"I cannot sleep, Your tears have made my shroud so wet; Oh, mother, do not weep!" Oh, love is strong!-the mother's heart Was filled with tender fears; Oh, love is strong!-and for her child Her grief restrained its tears.

Letitia Elizabeth Landon

Whoever in a noble noose is caught, Although his lady may but ill receive His ardour and thus render him distraught, And no reward for his devotion give, Whence all his time and labour come to naught, Yet, if his heart be worthily bestowed, No lamentation to his grief is owed.

Ludovico Ariosto