around, is the consciousness, the irrepressible consciousness, amidst all these lessons of human mortality, of the higher truth, that we are beings, not of time but of eternity-“that this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality” --that this is but the threshold and starting-point of an existence, compared with whose duration the ocean is but as a drop, nay the whole creation an evanescent quantity.
Let us banish, then, the thought, that this is to be the abode of a gloom, which will haunt the imagination by its terrors, or chill the heart by its solitude.
Let us cultivate feelings and sentiments more worthy of ourselves, and more worthy of christianity.
Here let us erect the memorials of our love, and our gratitude, and our glory.
Here let the brave repose, who have died in the cause of their country.
Here let the statesman rest, who has achieved the victories of peace, not less renowned than war. Here let genius find a home, that has sung immortal strains, or has instructed with still diviner eloquence.
Here let learning and science, the votaries of inventive art, and the teacher of the philosophy of nature come.
Here let youth and beauty, blighted by premature decay, drop, like tender blossoms, into the virgin earth; and here let age retire, ripened for the harvest.
Above all, here let the benefactors of mankind, the good, the merciful, the meek, the pure in heart, be congregated; for to them belongs an undying praise.
And let us take comfort, nay, let us rejoice, that in future ages, long after we are gathered to the generations of other days, thousands of kindling hearts will here repeat the sublime declaration, “Blessed are the dead, that die in the Lord
, for they rest from their labors; and their works do follow them.”