Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source:
https://books.google.com/books?id=2mhVAAAAYAAJ
(Princeton University)
Among all the many fine and beautiful figures and modes ofreasoningthat the universe in which we dwell has afforded for the illustrationof the bright hope that is within us of a life renewed beyond thetomb, there is none more beautiful or more exquisite, that I know of,than that which is derived from the seasons; from the second life thatbursts forth in spring in objects apparently dead, and from theshadowing forth in the renovation of everything around us of thatafter destiny which divine revelation calls upon our faith to believeshall yet be ours. The trees, that have faded and remained dark andgray through the long, dreary lapse of winter, clothe themselves againin green in the spring sunshine, and every leaf and every hue speaksof life. The birds that were mute sing again as tunefully as ever; theflowers that were trampled down and faded burst forth once more, infreshness and in beauty; the streams break from the icy chains thatheld them, and the glorious sun himself comes wandering back from hisfar journey, giving summer and warmth, and fertility and magnificenceto everything around. All that we see breathes of the same hope;everything that we see rekindles into life.
But, on the other hand, there are things within us that awake no more;there are feelings in our hearts that, passed away, return not; thereare thoughts that can never be thought again: there are hopes that,once put out, are put out for ever. These are the things that speak tous of death! These are the things that would darken our hopes ofimmortality, were we not to draw from them inferences of a higherstate of being, where love, and confidence, and happiness are notdelusions; where the plant of enjoyment has not its root in the earth,and where the flowers of life wither not away. There are certainlychanges in our very nature which would fill our bosoms with many darkand awful doubts, did we not find that, in the well-regulated mind,the bright and intoxicating dreams of early youth, the love that hasbeen crushed or thwarted, the confidence that has been a thousandtimes betrayed, may give place to firmer and more solid things,feelings not so exquisite, but more deep and powerful; thoughts not sobrilliant, but more just and true, did we not find that, with propercultivation, the flowers made way for fruit; did we not find thatevery stage of existence would have, but for our own faults, itsproper class of enjoyments, and that every stage but leads us ontowards an appreciation of that last noblest state of being, for whichall the rest are but a preparation. If we are immortal, is it not wellthat we should find earth's flowers fade? If we are immortal, is itnot well that we should find earth's hopes deceive us? If