A FUNERAL ORATION. 



Who needs to be told, in the midst of the awe-inspiring 

 scenes of grandeur which here surround us, that '^ God on- 

 ly is great ?" " There is neither speech nor language," but 

 a voice conies from all these lofty heights, these profound 

 and awful gulfs, comes to the soul of man— of every re- 

 flecting man here, and re-echoes the sentiment of reve- 

 rence to which Moses gave utterance in the sublime lan- 

 guage, ''Before the Mountains were brought forth, or ever 

 the earth and the world were made. Thou art God from 

 everlasting, and world without end !" 



Man and his works are perishable and ever perishing. 

 :N"ature is more stable and enduring. The scenes of great 

 events serve as striking memorials to future ages ; while 

 the changeless features impressed upon them, convey by 

 contrast, an awakening lesson of the mutability of human 

 things. 



In the art in which genius sometimes displays its most 

 brilliant powers, and fancy amuses itself with mimic repre- 

 sentations of passions and wants on the great stage of life ; 

 the curtain falls upon the scenery and action together : and 

 when the walking shadows of being disappear, the '' coun- 

 terfeit presentment" of objects, introduced to strengthen 

 the illusion, is removed from view, as unmeaning lumber. 



Not so with the reality enacting on the wide and varied 

 field of human existence and enterprise. The action, it 

 is true, is fleeting and inconstant. Generations succeed 

 each other in mournful and rapid succession; and their 



