Atheism
By Phillis Wheatley
Where now shall I begin this Spacious Feild
To tell what curses unbeleif doth yield
Thou that dost daily feel his hand and rod
And dare deny the essence of a god
If there’s no god from whence did all things spring
He made the greatest and minutest thing
If there’s no heaven whither wilt thou go
Make thy Elysium in the Shades below
With great astonishment any soul is struck
O rashness great hast thou thy sense forsook
Hast thou forgot the preterperfect days
They are recorded in the Book of praise
If twas not written by the hand of God
Why was it sealed with Immanuel’s blood
Tho ’tis a second point thou dost deny
Unmeasur’d vengeance Scarlet sins do cry
Turn now I pray thee from the dangerous road
Rise from the dust and seek the mighty God
By whose great mercy we do move and live
Whose Loving kindness doth our sins forgive
Tis Beelzebub our adversary great
Withholds from us the kingdom and the seat
Bliss weeping waits us in her arms to fly
To the vast regions of Felicity
Perhaps thy Ignorance will ask us where
Go to the corner stone it will declare
Thy heart in unbeleif will harder grow
Altho thou hidest it for pleasure now
Thou tak’st unusual means, the path forbear
Unkind to Others to thyself severe
Methinks I see the consequence thou art blind
Thy unbeleif disturbs the peaceful mind
The endless Scene too far for me to tread
Too great to Accomplish from so weak a head
If men Such wise inventions then should know
In the high Firmament who made the bow
That covenant was made for to ensure
Made to establish lasting to endure
Who made the heavens and earth a lasting Spring
Of Admiration. to whom dost thou bring
Thy thanks, and tribute, Adoration pay,
To heathen Gods, can wise Apollo say
Tis I that saves thee from the deepest hell
Minerva teach thee all thy days to tell
Doth Pluto tell thee thou shalt see the Shade
Of fell perdition for thy learning made
Doth Cupid in thy breast that warmth inspire
To Love thy brother which is Gods desire
Look thou above and see who made the sky
Nothing more Lucid to an Atheist’s eye
Look thou beneath, behold each purling stream
It surely can not a Delusion Seem
Mark rising Pheobus when he spreads his ray
And his commission for to guide the day
At night keep watch, and see a Cynthia bright
And her commission for to guide the night
See how the stars when the[y] do sing his praise
Witness his essence in celestial Lays