The Author's Letter To A Clergyman Poem by Rees Prichard

I Know, my brother, 'twas thy fervant zeal
For God, and for the Christian commonweal,
That made thee ask me at the present time,
To turn our church's doctrines into rhyme.

The Welsh, 'tis true, as thou may'st well discern,
Are much more apt some idle song to learn,
Than truths - that, far more worthy of their care,
And of more value and importance, are.

Thou therefore didst desire me, as I guess,
That I shou'd all those points in verse express;
That so the younglings of our flocks by rote
Might learn to sing with ease, what thus was wrote.

As soon as thou hadst thy design exprest,
Immediately I granted thy request,
And strove those sacred precepts to restrain
In artless Stanza's, and in language plain.

I labour'd not at any thing exact,
But a short measure, pleasing, and compact,
Which the worst memory might with ease retain,
That heard it only twice, or once again.

Receive with candor then this little task,
Which thou didst lately with such fervor ask;
And, though the work be not at all complete,
Yet it wou'd fain thy approbation meet.

If God some glory shall from hence obtain,
And our own flocks some small improvement gain,
We both shall have, I fancy, what we want :
Success to it may the Almighty grant!

May all thy wishes be by Him supply'd -
May He by thy inseperable guide -
But, as my haste is great, don't think me rude,
If I beg leave at present to conclude, &c. &c.