BISHOP JOSS.
If all the Elders of the State like you were sound
and holy,
P. Shufflebotham, guess our fate were far less
melancholy.
You air a man of blessed toil, far-shining and
discerning,
A heavenly lamp well trimm'd with oil, upon the
altar burning.
And yet for every one of us with equal resolu-
tion,
There's twenty samples of the Cuss, as mean as
Brother Clewson.