An Address to the Atheist, By P. Wheatley at the Age of
14 years -- 1767 --
[This appears to be a manuscript copy written in Phillis Wheatley's hand.]

Muse! where shall I begin the Spacious feild
To tell what curses unbelieif doth yeild?
Thou who dost daily feel his hand, and rod
Darest thou deny the Essence of a God! --
If there's no heav'n, ah! whither wilt thou go,
Make thy Ilysium [Elysium] in the shades below?
If there's no God from whom did all things Spring
He made the greatest and minutest Thing
Angelic ranks no less his Power display
Than the least mite scarce visible to Day
With vast astonishment my soul is struck
Have Reason'g powers thy dark en'd breast forsook?
The Laws deep Graven by the hand of God,
Seal'd with Immanuel's all-redeeming blood;
This second point thy folly dares deny
On thy devoted head for vengeance cry --
Turn then I pray thee from the dangerous road
Rise from the dust and seek the mighty God.
His is bright truth without a dark disguise
And his are wisdom's all beholding Eyes:
With labour'd snares our Adversary great
Withholds from us the Kingdom and the seat --
Bliss weeping waits thee, in her Arms to fly
To her own regions of felicity --
Perhaps thy ignorance will ask us where?
Go to the Corner stone he will declare.
Thy heard in unbelief will harden'd grow
Tho' much indulg'd in vicious pleasure now --
Thou tak'st unusual means; the path forbear
Unkind to others to thyself severe --
Methinks I see the consequence thou'rt blind
Thy unbelief disturbs the peaceful Mind.
The endless scene too far for me to tread
Too great to utter from so weak a head.
That man his maker's love divine might know
In heavens high firmament he placed his Bow --
To shew his covenant for ever sure
To endless Age unchanging to endure --
He made the Heavens and earth, that lasting Spring
Of admiration! To whom dost thou bring
Thy grateful 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 transgression made?
Doth Cupid in thy breast that warmth inspire
To love thy Brother, which is God's desire?
Atheist! behold the wide extended skys.
And wisdom infinite shall strike thine eyes
Mark rising Sol when far he spreads his Ray
And his Commission read -- "To rule the Day"
At night behold Its silver Regent bright
And her command to lead the train of Night
Lo! how the stars all vocal in his praise
Witness his Essence in celestial lays!

An address to the Deist -- 1767 --

Must Ethiopians be employ'd for you?
Much I rejoice if any good I do.
I ask O unbeliever, Satan's child
Hath not thy saviour been too much revil'd
Th' auspicious rays that round his temples shine
Do still declare him to be Christ divine
Doth not the great Eternal call him Son
Is he not pleas'd with his beloved One -- ?
How canst thou thus divide the Trinity --
The blest the Holy the eternal three
Tis Satan's Snares are fluttering in the wind
Whereby he doth ensnare thy foolish mind
God, the Eternal Orders this to be
Sees thy vain arg'ments to divide the three
Cans't thou not see the Consequence in store?
Begin th' Almighty monarch to adore
Attend to Reason whispering in thine ear
Seek the Eternal while he is so near.
Full in thy view I point each path I know
Lest to the vale of black dispair I go.
At the last day where wilt thou hide thy face
That Day approaching is no time for Grace --
Too late percieve thyself undone and lost
To late own Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
Who trod the wine-press of Jehovah's wrath?
Who taught us prayer, and promis'd grace, and faith -- ?
Who but the Son, who reigns supremely blest
Ever, and ever, in immortal rest?
The vilest Prodigal who comes to God
Is not cast out but bro't by Jesus' blood.
When to the faithless Jews he oft did cry
Some own'd their teacher some made him a lye
He came to you in mean apparel clad
He came to save us from our sins, and had
Compassion more than language can express.
Pains his companions, and his friends distress
Immanuel on the cross those pains did bear --
Will the eternal our petitions hear?
Ah! wondrous Destiny his life he laid.
"Father forgive them" thus the saviour pray'd
Nail'd was king Jesus on the cross for us.
For our transgressions he sustain'd the Curse.

33.5 cm x 20.6 cm

From the Robie-Sewall family papers
Pages 1-2 contain a manuscript copy of "An Address to the Athiest," and pages 3-4 contain a manuscript copy of "An Address to the Deist."