Quote#God & Faith
Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small
Quote byHenry Wadsworth Longfellow · 1807–1882
Commonly attributed — not confirmed in an authoritative edition. Cited on Wikiquote to: Translations, Retribution, from Friedrich von Logau, Sinngedichte, III, 2, 24.
English (original)
Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small; Though with patience he stands waiting, with exactness grinds he all.
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
More from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Stars of the summer night! Far in yon azure deeps, Hide, hide your golden light! She sleeps! My lady sleeps!
She floats upon the river of his thoughts.
They are dead; but they live in each Patriot's breast, And their names are engraven on honor's bright crest.
Music is the universal language of mankind — poetry their universal pastime and delight.
Dreams of the summer night! Tell her, her lover keeps Watch! while in slumbers light She sleeps.
Never here, forever there, Where all parting, pain, and care, And death, and time shall disappear,— Forever there, but never here! The horologe of Eternity Sayeth this incessantly,—