Many there are whose prayers arise for this; Whose greatest joy would be in Zion's bliss; Whose morning breathing, and whose evening prayer Is that the Lord would place his glory there. --What though a worldly spirit has crept in, That fain the kingdom through new ways would win, Scorning the narrow path our fathers trod, And circling round would pass the cross and rod-- Yet they who look from Pisgah's height can see, Such by-paths lead away from Calvary,-- While they who seek in empty forms for bliss, Will grasp at shadows and the substance miss. --No, no!--as ancient =PENNOCK=[5] clearly saw, Still with this people shall abide the law; Still shall the testimony here be found,-- Still sons and daughters to the altar bound. The Lord himself his attributes shall take; Again shall order out of chaos break; Then shall the church in rapturous numbers sing, And shout victorious as she owns her King; While those who seek to draw her from the way, Themselves shall lose in errors paths astray! NOTES. NOTE 1. Sarah Harrison was aunt to Jane Snowdon. When on a religious visit in Great Britain, she felt her mind engaged to speak to George III. When she commenced addressing him, he took off his hat, and remained uncovered during her communication. She died in Philadelphia, the 29th of Twelfth month, 1812, aged 76; a minister 55 years. NOTE 2. Samuel Emlen, felt concerned often to look up the sick, weak and halt of the flock; and for this purpose, in the latter part of his life, he kept a one horse chair, in which he rode about "doing good:" in allusion to which practice, he sometimes said, he "earned his bread by jobbing." He died the 30th of Twelfth month, 1799, aged 75. NOTE 3. David Bacon and descendants.--William Wilson, an elder of Philadelphia Monthly Meeting.--Sarah Proctor Wilson, a minister of the Southern District Monthly Meeting. NOTE 4. Catharine Sheppard, an elder of the Northern District Monthly Meeting, died the 15th of Twelfth month, 1842, aged 80 years. The following lines appeared a few days after in one of the daily papers, on the occasion of her death. Sleep, mother, sleep, for thy work is now done, Thy course is accomplished, the victory won! Doubts and fears can no longer arise in thy path, Nor tempest-cloud hover with threatening wrath. Sleep, mother, sleep! our protector and guide! Though we fain would have turned all Death's arrows aside; Though we clung to thee fondly, and watched every breath, Thy spirit unnoticed departed with Death. Ah, cruel destroyer!--But cease ye, and hear What sounds of sweet melody break on the ear! 'Tis the voice of rejoicing, oh, listen the sound, That a prisoner of hope from the earth is unbound!