On The Death Of Rev. Mr. George Whitefield Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABCDDEEFFGGGHHIIGGJ JKKLMCBNOPPQRSSTTUUV WXXIITT YZ| HAIL happy saint on thine immortal throne | A |
| Possest of glory life and bliss unknown | A |
| We hear no more the music of thy tongue | B |
| Thy wonted auditories cease to throng | C |
| Thy sermons in unequall'd accents flow'd | D |
| And ev'ry bosom with devotion glow'd | D |
| Thou didst in strains of eloquence refin'd | E |
| Inflame the heart and captivate the mind | E |
| Unhappy we the setting sun deplore | F |
| So glorious once but ah it shines no more | F |
| Behold the prophet in his tow'ring flight | G |
| He leaves the earth for heav'n's unmeasur'd height | G |
| And worlds unknown receive him from our sight | G |
| There Whitefield wings with rapid course his way | H |
| And sails to Zion through vast seas of day | H |
| Thy pray'rs great saint and thine incessant cries | I |
| Have pierc'd the bosom of thy native skies | I |
| Thou moon hast seen and all the stars of light | G |
| How he has wrestled with his God by night | G |
| He pray'd that grace in ev'ry heart might dwell | J |
| He long'd to see America excell | J |
| He charg'd its youth that ev'ry grace divine | K |
| Should with full lustre in their conduct shine | K |
| That Saviour which his soul did first receive | L |
| The greatest gift that ev'n a God can give | M |
| He freely offer'd to the num'rous throng | C |
| That on his lips with list'ning pleasure hung | B |
| quot Take him ye wretched for your only good | N |
| quot Take him ye starving sinners for your food | O |
| quot Ye thirsty come to this life giving stream | P |
| quot Ye preachers take him for your joyful theme | P |
| quot Take him my dear Americans he said | Q |
| quot Be your complaints on his kind bosom laid | R |
| quot Take him ye Africans he longs for you | S |
| quot Impartial Saviour is his title due | S |
| quot Wash'd in the fountain of redeeming blood | T |
| quot You shall be sons and kings and priests to God quot | T |
| Great Countess we Americans revere | U |
| Thy name and mingle in thy grief sincere | U |
| New England deeply feels the Orphans mourn | V |
| Their more than father will no more return | W |
| But though arrested by the hand of death | X |
| Whitefield no more exerts his lab'ring breath | X |
| Yet let us view him in th' eternal skies | I |
| Let ev'ry heart to this bright vision rise | I |
| While the tomb safe retains its sacred trust | T |
| Till life divine re animates his dust | T |
| - | |
| The Countess of Huntingdon to whom Mr Whitefield was | Y |
| Chaplain | Z |
Phillis Wheatley
(1)
Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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