While an intrinsic ardor prompts to write, <br />The muses promise to assist my pen; <br />'Twas not long since I left my native shore <br />The land of errors, and Egyptian gloom: <br />Father of mercy, 'twas thy gracious hand <br />Brought me in safety from those dark abodes. <br />Students, to you 'tis giv'n to scan the heights <br />Above, to traverse the ethereal space, <br />And mark the systems of revolving worlds. <br /> <br />Still more, ye sons of science ye receive <br />The blissful news by messengers from heav'n, <br />How Jesus' blood for your redemption flows. <br />See him with hands out-stretcht upon the cross; <br />Immense compassion in his bosom glows; <br />He hears revilers, nor resents their scorn: <br />What matchless mercy in the Son of God! <br />When the whole human race by sin had fall'n, <br />He deign'd to die that they might rise again, <br />And share with him in the sublimest skies, <br />Life without death, and glory without end. <br /> <br /> Improve your privileges while they stay, <br />Ye pupils, and each hour redeem, that bears <br />Or good or bad report of you to heav'n. <br />Let sin, that baneful evil to the soul, <br />By you be shun'd, nor once remit your guard; <br />Suppress the deadly serpent in its egg. <br />Ye blooming plants of human race divine, <br />An Ethiop tells you 'tis your greatest foe; <br />Its transient sweetness turns to endless pain, <br />And in immense perdition sinks the soul.<br /><br />Phillis Wheatley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-university-of-cambridge/
