And we are met here to consecrate this spot, by these solemn ceremonies, to such a purpose.
The Legislature of this Commonwealth, with a parental foresight has clothed the Horticultural Society
with authority (if I may use its own language) to make a perpetual dedication of it, as a Rural Cemetery or Burying-Ground, and to plant and embellish it with shrubbery, and flowers, and trees, and walks, and other rural ornaments.
And I stand here by the order and in behalf of this Society, to declare that, by these services, it is to be deemed henceforth and forever so dedicated.
, in the noblest sense, belongs no longer to the living, but to the dead.
It is a sacred, it is an eternal trust.
It is consecrated ground.
May it remain forever inviolate!
What a multitude of thoughts crowd upon the mind in the contemplation of such a scene.
How much of the future, even in its far distant reaches, rises before us with all its persuasive realities.
Take but one little narrow space of time, and how affecting are its associations!
Within the flight of one half century, how many of the great, the good, and the wise, will be gathered here!
How many in the loveliness of infancy, the beauty of youth, the vigor of manhood, and the maturity of age, will lie down here, and dwell in the bosom of their mother earth!
The rich and the poor, the gay and the wretched, the favorites of thousands, and the forsaken of the world, the stranger in his solitary grave, and the patriarch surrounded by the kindred of a long lineage!
How many will here bury their brightest hopes, or blasted expectations!
How many bitter tears will here be shed!
How many agonizing sighs will here be heaved!
How many trembling