Of self-denial, drove him harshly forth From the paternal roof. But William Penn, Had still a Father, who supported him, With strength and courage to perform his will; And he was called and qualified to preach, And to bear witness of that blessed Light Which shines within. He suffered in the cause, His share of trial. He was dragged before Judges and juries, and was shut within The walls of prisons. Looking abroad through England, he was filled With deep commiseration, for the jails-- The loathsome, filthy jails--were crowded with His brethren in the Truth. For their relief, He sought the ear of royalty, and plead Their cruel sufferings; and their innocence; And thus became the instrument through which Some prison doors were opened. But he sought A place of refuge from oppression's power, That Friends might worship the Creator there, Free from imprisonment and penalties. And such a place soon opened to his view, Far in the Western Wilderness, beyond The Atlantic's wave. And here is William Penn, and here a band Of weary emigrants, who now behold The promised land before them; but it is The Indian's country, and the Indian's home. Penn had indeed, received a royal grant, To occupy it; but a grant from one Who had no rightful ownership therein; He therefore buys it honestly from those Whose claims are aboriginal, and just. With these inhabitants, behold, he stands Beneath an ancient elm, whose spreading limbs O'erhang the Delaware. The forest chiefs Sit in grave silence, while the pipe of peace Goes round the circle. They have made a league With faithful Onas--a perpetual league, And treaty of true friendship, to endure While the sun shines, and while the waters run. And here was founded in the wilderness, A refuge from oppression, where all creeds Found toleration, and where truth and right Were the foundation of its government, And its protection. In that early day, The infant colony sought no defence But that of justice and of righteousness; The only guarantees of peace on earth, Because they ever breathe, good will to men. His colony thus planted, William Penn Sought his old field of labour, and again, Both through the press and vocally, he plead The right of conscience, and the rights of man; And frequently, and forcibly he preached Christ's universal and inshining Light. His labour was incessant; and the cares, And the perplexities connected with His distant province, which he visited A second time, bore heavily upon His burdened spirit, which demanded rest;-- That rest was granted. In the midst of all His labour and his trials, there was drawn A veil, in mercy, round his active mind, Which dimmed all outward things; but he still saw The beauty and the loveliness of Truth,