Analysis of On The Death Of Rev. Mr. George Whitefield
Phillis Wheatley 1753 (West Africa) – 1784 (Boston)
HAIL, happy saint, on thine immortal throne,
Possest of glory, life, and bliss unknown;
We hear no more the music of thy tongue,
Thy wonted auditories cease to throng.
Thy sermons in unequall'd accents flow'd,
And ev'ry bosom with devotion glow'd;
Thou didst in strains of eloquence refin'd
Inflame the heart, and captivate the mind.
Unhappy we the setting sun deplore,
So glorious once, but ah! it shines no more.
Behold the prophet in his tow'ring flight!
He leaves the earth for heav'n's unmeasur'd height,
And worlds unknown receive him from our sight.
There Whitefield wings with rapid course his way,
And sails to Zion through vast seas of day.
Thy pray'rs, great saint, and thine incessant cries
Have pierc'd the bosom of thy native skies.
Thou moon hast seen, and all the stars of light,
How he has wrestled with his God by night.
He pray'd that grace in ev'ry heart might dwell,
He long'd to see America excell;
He charg'd its youth that ev'ry grace divine
Should with full lustre in their conduct shine;
That Saviour, which his soul did first receive,
The greatest gift that ev'n a God can give,
He freely offer'd to the num'rous throng,
That on his lips with list'ning pleasure hung.
"Take him, ye wretched, for your only good,
"Take him ye starving sinners, for your food;
"Ye thirsty, come to this life-giving stream,
"Ye preachers, take him for your joyful theme;
"Take him my dear Americans, he said,
"Be your complaints on his kind bosom laid:
"Take him, ye Africans, he longs for you,
"Impartial Saviour is his title due:
"Wash'd in the fountain of redeeming blood,
"You shall be sons, and kings, and priests to God."
Great Countess,* we Americans revere
Thy name, and mingle in thy grief sincere;
New England deeply feels, the Orphans mourn,
Their more than father will no more return.
But, though arrested by the hand of death,
Whitefield no more exerts his lab'ring breath,
Yet let us view him in th' eternal skies,
Let ev'ry heart to this bright vision rise;
While the tomb safe retains its sacred trust,
Till life divine re-animates his dust.
*The Countess of Huntingdon, to whom Mr. Whitefield was
Chaplain.
Scheme | AABCDDEEFFGGGHHIIGGJJKKXXCBXXLLXXMMXXNNXXOOIIPP XX |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1101110101 111010101 1111010111 111111 11001101 011010101 1101110001 010101001 0101010101 11001111111 0101001111 11011111 01010111101 111110111 0111011111 1111010101 1101011101 1111010111 1111011111 111101111 111101001 111111101 1111001011 111111101 01011110111 110101011 1111111101 1111011101 1111010111 1101111101 1101111101 1111010011 1101111101 1111001111 010111101 1001010101 1111010111 1101010001 1101001101 1101010101 1111011101 1101010111 111011111 111110110101 111111101 1011011101 1101110011 0101100111011 10 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 2,120 |
Words | 373 |
Sentences | 16 |
Stanzas | 2 |
Stanza Lengths | 47, 2 |
Lines Amount | 49 |
Letters per line (avg) | 34 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 826 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 185 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 26, 2023
- 1:58 min read
- 341 Views
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"On The Death Of Rev. Mr. George Whitefield" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 4 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/29375/on-the-death-of-rev.-mr.-george-whitefield>.
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