Classic Poem

Your kindness wherewithal my last years Meeters met,
Does this new monument of ship-mate-ship beget,
Which, if it shall receive the selfsame Recompense,
May rise as high again, & shew a twelvemonth hence
Some Matters, as I hope, of greater Consequence,
Unless my Ink dry up, or my small Diligence.
Dear Friends, an other Year besides the thirty one,
(Whereof my former Sheet,) is now elaps'd and gone.
Sith that we landed here on Philadelphia's Shore
Our Duty then requires, to praise the Lord once more,
For all his Goodnesses, in the Plurality,
Which Ev'ry one of you enjoy'd as well as I:
This Second Paper shall enumerate but some,
In Grammars threefold Tense, Past, Present & to Come.
God's Mercies over Us have been before we were
Produced on the Stage of this Terrestrial Sphere,
He pour'd us out as Milk, within our Mother's Womb,
And least that this should be that First Stuff's walking Tomb,
Did Crudle it like Chees, and when yet weak & fresh,
Fill up the tender skin with Sinews, Bones & Flesh.
Our Bodies thus prepared, He graciously would give
A never-dying Soul, thereby to move and live.
To move & live to Him, in Whom we live and move,
Oh! that we always might obedient Children prove,
Dread, love and worship God, the only Father, which
Beyond all Fathers is, most Bountiful and Rich.
'Tis He and He alone, that made us what we are,
And of His Handy-work did ever since take Care,
By Angels, Parents, Friends; Nay oft by wretched Foes,
Who, aiming at the Head, could scarcely hit our Toes.
So having been (poor things!) a Nine-month Closed in
A dark and narrow Vault, (Concluded under Sin,
Old Adam's Progeny,) were usher'd, that we should
As well our Genitors, as other men behold;
But presently we wept, quite overwhelm'd with Fears,
Forecasting, that we came into a Vale of Tears.
How be't they kiss'd, they buss'd, & dandled us so long,
Till with their Flatteries, & lulling Midwife's Song,
They Dun'd our Juicy Ears, And in our Nurse's Lap,
Outwearied by these Tunes, we took a Gentle Nap,
Soon wak'ned of our Trance, they laid us to the Breast,
The which of all the Sports, (me thinks,) has been the best;
For, when we grew some years, discerning sad from glad,
They sent us to the School, where we learn'd good & bad:
More of the last than first — Had not our Parents skill
Surpass'd our Masters Wit, how Ill, alas! how Ill
Would things still be with us? Had God withheld his Light,
We were as blind as Moles; But Thanks to Him! our Sight
Increased with our Age: Wherefore I humbly bless
The Fountain of this Gift, the Sun of Righteousness;
Whose Rays, if well improv'd by us, so as they ought,
Will warm our fainting Hearts, and grant us what we sought,
When I from Franckenland, & you from Wales set forth,
The one out of the East, the Others of the North,
In order to Exile ourselves towards the West,
And there to serve the Lord in Stillness, Peace & Rest.
He gave us our desires; For one, that rightly seeks,
Does never miss to find. A matter of eight weeks
Restrained in a ship, America by name,
Into America [Amo(a)rica:] we came:
A Countrey bitter-sweet, & pray! how can 't be less,
Consid'ring all the World does lie in wickedness?
And though perhaps some thought, that Penn-Silvania
Should be excepted, and dream'd of Utopia,
That Extramundane place (by Thomas Morus found,
Now with old Groenland lost,) where all are safe & sound;
Yet is it parcel of the odd and Cursed Ground.
What happ'nd by the way, is needless for to tell;
But this I dare not slip, that when the Lion fell
Upon my Back, and when next in a frightful Storm,
Once I myself did fall, there Crawling as a Worm,
Brave HONEST Thomas Lloyd has been the only Man,
That heal'd me by God's help, our great Physician,
Our Maker, Saviour & our Prophet, Priest and King,
Good Shepherd, Teacher, Guide: Our All and Ev'ry thing.
To Him the Holy One, we his Redeemed bow,
And Glory, Majesty, Renown and Praises owe,
For what He hitherto was pleased to bestow.
(On us poor Creatures, whose Cup did overflow,)
In two parts of this Globe, especially here,
Where we at present breathe, which Tense, tho' ne're so near,
I hardly comprehend: It suddenly posts by,
E'en in an Instant, and the Twinkling of an Eye.
'Tis nothing but a Now, a Now that can not last;
Pronounce it with all haste, & with all haste it's past.
A Weaver's Shuttle is not half so Swift or fleet,
This momentary Jot has rather Wings than Feet:
It vanishes like Smoke, like Dust before the Wind,
And leaves, as sounding Brass, an Echoing Voice behind,
Which minds us, that it should be Carefully imploy'd,
So as the same has been by HONEST Thomas Lloyd,
My quondam real Friend, whom with this Epithet
I honour thankfully, and never shall forget
His many Courtesies, to my Departing hour,
Altho' my years should reach to other Sixty-four.
If you, his Daughters, & your Families, & I,
With mine do follow him, we may be sure to die
In Favour with the Lord, and Unity with Friends:
By three things he excell'd, Faith, Love & Patience.
And this (to wit the last,) adorned thus his life,
That I may truly say, she (it) was his Second Wife.
Concerning Charity , (the Center of my Trine,)
It did as clearly as his other Vertues shine:
He kindly deal'd with all, to ev'ry one did good,
Endearing chiefly God, and then the Brotherhood.
His Christian Belief was grounded on the Rock,
And so could easily endure the hardest Shock:
Plain-hearted he has been, profound & Orthodox,
Opposed by Geo. Keith's dull lowing of an Ox.
A Bull of Bashan, who went willfully astray;
But honest Thomas Lloyd continued in the Way,
Christ Jesus, with streight Steps: If we walk on in them,
We shall undoubtedly get to Jerusalem,
The City of the Saints Solemnity above,
Built of the purest Gold, wall'd, pav'd & ciel'd with Love.
I say, we shall arrive, (and that is yet to come,)
Ere long in Paradise our long & lasting Home;
For, when what we call Time, (a thing at best but short,
And to be used as Paul the Brethren does exhort,)
Will once be Swallow'd up, with Death, in Victory,
Those Tenses needs must cease to all Eternity.
E TERNITY , a word whereof I fain would speak,
Because I feel, it does a deep Impression make
Upon my Spirit; But as Augustin was out
In such like Mysteries, and proved too too stout,
Reproved by a Child, that tried to transfuse
The Waters of the Sea into his little Sluce.
So, if by Millions, yea by thousand Millions more,
Instead of Units, I shall Nine and Ninety Score
Fine Bales of Genoa all over Multiply,
'Twill but a Hair-breadth be as to E TERNITY .
The Stars, and Jacob's Seed, are without Number, and
He is a Shatter-pate, that Counts Grass, Drops & Sand:
A perfect Bedlam, ay! who with Simonides
Presumes to Chalk out God, & Everlastingness.
Let us be therefore wise, and thus retract the Days,
Which from our Cradle up in Idleness and Plays,
Or infinitely worse, have frequently been spent,
That for transacted Sins we seriously repent:
And take what heed we can, that in this running Time,
We nothing may mis-do, mis-think, mis-speak, mis-rime.
As to F UTURITY , none of us all can say,
That either you, or I, shall see an other Day;
For this good reason we Commit that unto Him,
Who rides, above all Times, upon the Cherubim.
He sees the Pristine, and what henceforth must ensue,
Like present evermore: Gives unto Each his Due,
And they, who faithfully their Talents do imploy,
Shall be rewarded there with Crowns & boundless Joy.
Thus I am finishing my homely Lines, and Crave
Dear Shipmates, your Excuse, that I so boldly have
With Doggrels troubled you, Fare well, rememb'ring me,
Who am your loving & affectionate F. D. P.