Thou that hast given so much to me give me one thing more, a grateful heart: not thankful when it pleaseth me, as if Thy blessings had spare days, but such a heart whose pulse may be Thy praise.
Praise the Sea, but keepe on land.
The evening praises the day, and the morning a frost.
Rise, heart; thy Lord is risen. Sing His praise Without delays, Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise With Him mayst rise: That, as His death calcined thee to dust, His life may make thee gold, and, much more, just.
True praise rootes and spreedes.
Lord! who hath praise enough?
Give me simplicity, that I may live, So live and like, that I may know Thy ways, Know them and practise them: then shall I give For this poor wreath, give Thee a crown of praise.
Neither praise nor dispraise thy selfe, thy actins serve the turne. [Neither praise nor dispraise thyself; thy actions serve the turn.]
Old praise dies, unlesse you feede it. [Old praise dies unless you feed it.]
Praise a hill, but keepe below.
Praise day at night, and life at the end.
To write a verse or two is all the praise That I can raise.
Praise none too much, for all are fickle.
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