Memoir and Poems of Phillis Wheatley/Thoughts on the Works of Providence
THOUGHTS ON THE WORKS OF PROVIDENCE.
Arise, my soul; on wings enraptured, rise,
To praise the Monarch of the earth and skies,
Whose goodness and beneficence appear,
As round its centre moves the rolling year;
Or when the morning glows with rosy charms,
Or the sun slumbers in the ocean's arms:
Of light divine be a rich portion lent,
To guide my soul and favor my intent.
Celestial Muse, my arduous flight sustain,
And raise my mind to a seraphic strain!
Adored forever be the God unseen,
Which round the sun revolves this vast machine,
Though to his eye its mass a point appears:
Adored the God that whirls surrounding spheres.
Which first ordained that mighty Sol should reign,
The peerless monarch of the etherial train:
Of miles twice forty millions is his height,
And yet his radiance dazzles mortal sight.
So far beneath—from him the extended earth
Vigor derives, and ev'ry flow'ry birth:
Vast through her orb she moves with easy grace,
Around her Phoebus in unbounded space;
True to her course, the impetuous storm derides,
Triumphant o'er the winds and surging tides.
Almighty, in these wondrous works of thine,
What Power, what Wisdom, and what Goodness shine!
And are thy wonders, Lord, by men explored,
And yet creating glory unadored?
Creation smiles in various beauty gay.
While day to night, and night succeeds to day:
That Wisdom which attends Jehovah's ways,
Shines most conspicuous in the solar rays:
Without them, destitute of heat and light,
This world would be the reign of endless night.
In their excess how would our race complain,
Abhorring life! how hate its lengthened chain!
From air, or dust, what numerous ills would rise!
What dire contagion taint the burning skies!
What pestilential vapor, fraught with death,
Would rise, and overspread the lands beneath!
Hail, smiling morn, that, from the orient main
Ascending, dost adorn the heavenly plain!
So rich, so various are thy beauteous dyes
That spread through all the circuit of the skies,
That, full of thee, my soul in rapture soars,
And thy great God, the cause of all, adores.
O'er beings infinite his love extends,
His Wisdom rules them, and his power defends.
When tasks diurnal tire the human frame,
The spirits faint, and dim the vital flame;
Then, too, that ever-active bounty shines,
Which not infinity of space confines.
The sable veil, that Night in silence draws,
Conceals effects, but shews the Almighty Cause;
Night seals in sleep the wide creation fair,
And all is peaceful but the brow of care.
Again, gay Phœbus, as the day before,
Wakes ev'ry eye, but what shall wake no more;
Again the face of nature is renewed,
Which still appears harmonious, fair, and good.
May grateful strains salute the smiling morn,
Before its beams the eastern hills adorn!
Shall day to day and night to night conspire
To show the goodness of the Almighty Sire?
This mental voice shall man regardless hear,
And never, never raise the filial prayer?
To-day, oh hearken, nor your folly mourn
For time misspent, that never will return.
But see the sons of vegetation rise,
And spread their leafy banners to the skies.
All-wise, Almighty Providence, we trace
In trees and plants, and all the flow'ry race,
As clear as in the noble frame of man,
All lovely copies of the Maker's plan,—
The power the same that forms a ray of light,
That called creation from eternal night.
"Let there be light," he said: from his profound
Old Chaos heard, and trembled at the sound:
Swift as the word, inspired by power divine,
Behold the light around its Maker shine,
The first fair product of the omnific God,
And now through all his works diffused abroad.
As reason's powers by day our God disclose,
So we may trace him in the night's repose:
Say, what is sleep? and dreams how passing strange!
When action ceases and ideas range
Licentious and unbounded o'er the plains,
Where fancy's queen in giddy triumph reigns.
Hear in soft strains the dreaming lover sigh
To a kind fair, or rave in jealousy;
On pleasure now, and now on vengeance bent,
The lab'ring passions struggle for a vent.
What power, O man! thy reason then restores,
So long suspended in nocturnal hours?
What secret hand returns the mental train,
And gives improved thine active powers again?
From thee, O man, what gratitude should rise!
And when from balmy sleep thou op'st thine eyes,
Let thy first thoughts be praises to the skies.
How merciful our God, who thus imparts
O'erflowing tides of joy to human hearts,
When wants and woes might be our righteous lot,
Our God forgetting, by our God forgot!
Among the mental powers a question rose,
What most the image of the Eternal shows;
When thus to reason (so let Fancy rove,)
Her great companion spoke, immortal Love:
"Say, mighty power, how long shall strife prevail,
"And with its murmurs load the whispering gale?
"Refer the cause to Recollection's shrine,
"Who loud proclaims my origin divine,
"The cause whence heaven and earth began to be,
"And is not man immortalized by me?
"Reason, let this most causeless strife subside."
Thus love pronounced, and reason thus reply'd:
"Thy birth, celestial queen! 't is mine to own,
"In thee resplendent is the Godhead shown;
"Thy words persuade, my soul enraptured feels
"Resistless beauty which thy soul reveals."
Ardent she spoke, and kindling at her charms,
She clasped the blooming goddess in her arms.
Infinite Love, where'er we turn our eyes,
Appears: this ev'ry creature's want supplies;
This most is heard in Nature's constant voice;
This makes the morn, and this the eve, rejoice;
This bids the fostering rains and dews descend,
To nourish all, to serve one gen'ral end,
The good of man: yet man ungrateful pays
But little homage, and but little praise.
To him whose works arrayed in mercy shine,
What songs should rise, how constant, how divine!