Phillis Wheatley (1753-1784)

When this poet was seven years old, she was stolen from her African home and brought to New England. There she was sold as a slave to the Wheatley family of Boston, Massachusetts, who named her Phillis. The Wheatleys educated Phillis at home, and because she learned so well, even went so far as to teach her Latin and Greek. She embraced the Christian faith and expressed that faith in her poetry. She wrote a poem upon the death of the Rev. George Whitfield that gained her notoriety in Boston. An English friend of Whitefield's met her and took her to England and there helped her publish more of her poetry. She became the first African American writer to be published. Later she was granted her freedom and married a free black man. She died at the young age of thirty years.

The first poem of Phillis Wheatley's that I ever came across stunned me. In it Phillis Wheatley remembers the most traumatic injustice of her life--her kidnapping from Africa and being sold into slavery--and thanks God for it! Like Joseph, who told his brothers that what they meant for evil, God meant for good, she was able to see how this great injustice of men had led her to faith in the Lord who saves.

I will reprint that poem below, plus another favorite of mine. You can read more of her poetry online by following this link.

On being brought from Africa to America

'TWAS mercy brought me from my Pagan land,
Taught my benighted soul to understand
That there's a God, that there's a Saviour too:
Once I redemption neither fought now knew,
Some view our sable race with scornful eye,               
"Their colour is a diabolic die."
Remember, Christians, Negroes, black as Cain,
May be refin'd, and join th' angelic train.

                             Phillis Wheatley (1753-1784)

On Virtue

O Thou bright jewel in my aim I strive
To comprehend thee.  Thine own words declare
Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach.
I cease to wonder, and no more attempt
Thine height t' explore, or fathom thy profound.          
But, O my soul, sink not into despair,
Virtue is near thee, and with gentle hand
Would now embrace thee, hovers o'er thine head.
Fain would the heav'n-born soul with her converse,
Then seek, then court her for her promis'd bliss.      

Auspicious queen, thine heav'nly pinions spread,
And lead celestial Chastity along;
Lo! now her sacred retinue descends,
Array'd in glory from the orbs above.
Attend me, Virtue, thro' my youthful years!                
O leave me not to the false joys of time!
But guide my steps to endless life and bliss.
Greatness, or Goodness, say what I shall call thee,
To give me an higher appellation still,
Teach me a better strain, a nobler lay,                   
O thou, enthron'd with Cherubs in the realms of day.

                       Phillis Wheatley (1753-1784)

Here's an inexpensive edition of Phillis Wheatley's complete writings.

Comments

[Kristie Ivey]

im writing a reserch project on phillis and i think this is going to be the best one i have ever done and i hope that i will strive to be like her more than myself