 | Collected poems of Samuel Davies : 1723-1761 |  |
XIV. The Soul early estranged from its Divine Parent.
Father of Spirits! why, ah! why
Should thy own Offspring be so shy?
This Soul inspir'd by thee so late,
Her bright Original forget?
So soon forget her heav'nly Birth,
And basely grovel in the Earth?
Should thy own Offspring be so shy?
This Soul inspir'd by thee so late,
Her bright Original forget?
So soon forget her heav'nly Birth,
And basely grovel in the Earth?
But a few Years their Rounds have run,
Since first my Infant-Life begun:
'Till then, in native Nothing's Shade
I lay infinite Years unmade;
And but for thy creating Will,
Had slept in dreary Nothing still.
“Let Nothing spring to Life,” Thy Tongue
Pronounc'd, and straight to Life it sprung.
Thou only art my Father, Thou
My Author and Preserver too.
Since first my Infant-Life begun:
'Till then, in native Nothing's Shade
I lay infinite Years unmade;
And but for thy creating Will,
Had slept in dreary Nothing still.
“Let Nothing spring to Life,” Thy Tongue
Pronounc'd, and straight to Life it sprung.
Thou only art my Father, Thou
My Author and Preserver too.
Yet, Father! Thy own Progeny
Was soon, alas! estrang'd from Thee:
Cast forth to Earth's remote Abode,
Forgot her Father, lost her God:
Enslav'd to Flesh, and Lust and Sense,
Reluctant to aspire from thence:
With gilded Toys familiar grown,
Her Father lost, unsought, unknown.
Not so my Child: His Infant Tongue,
Owns me the Parent whence he sprung:
His little fondling Actions show
What grateful Passions inward glow:
Joying he rests in my Embrace,
Or fondling round me smiles and plays:
From real or imagin'd Harms,
Flies for Protection to my Arms;
And thus, with undesigning Tongue,
Upbraids me of ungrateful Wrong.
Was soon, alas! estrang'd from Thee:
Cast forth to Earth's remote Abode,
Forgot her Father, lost her God:
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Reluctant to aspire from thence:
With gilded Toys familiar grown,
Her Father lost, unsought, unknown.
Not so my Child: His Infant Tongue,
Owns me the Parent whence he sprung:
His little fondling Actions show
What grateful Passions inward glow:
Joying he rests in my Embrace,
Or fondling round me smiles and plays:
From real or imagin'd Harms,
Flies for Protection to my Arms;
And thus, with undesigning Tongue,
Upbraids me of ungrateful Wrong.
Ah! shall this Child return to me,
A warmer Love than I to Thee!
To Thee the universal Cause,
Whence Nature her Existence draws.
Thou gracious Author of my Frame,
A wand'ring Prodigal reclaim.
From glitt'ring Toys my Soul recall,
To Thee her bright Original.
Allure me to my Father's Arms
By Thy own uncreated Charms.
A warmer Love than I to Thee!
To Thee the universal Cause,
Whence Nature her Existence draws.
Thou gracious Author of my Frame,
A wand'ring Prodigal reclaim.
From glitt'ring Toys my Soul recall,
To Thee her bright Original.
Allure me to my Father's Arms
By Thy own uncreated Charms.
| Collected poems of Samuel Davies : 1723-1761 | |