E 340 
 .C6 S7 
 Copy 1 
 
 SERMON, 
 
 OV THE 
 
 LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 OF 
 
 HENRY CLAY, 
 
 HEFORE 
 
 THE YOUNG MEN OF NEWARK, N.J. 
 
 PKKACHED, 
 
 AT THEIR REQUEST, 
 
 IN 
 
 '%\)t fUim of l^rntjer," 
 
 JULY 25th, 1852, 
 BY 
 
 REV. SAMUEL L. SOUTHARD, A. M. 
 
 ALFRED U. ROGERS, NEWARK, K. J. 
 1852. 
 
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 L346 
 
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 MKRCURY OKFICE PRINT NEWARK, N. J. 
 
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 N'r.w AKK, ./»/// t'l///, 1K.')2. 
 
 IJr.V. SaMI KI. ]j. SoUTIIARI), 
 
 Jiedor ,>/ " '/'//,• Iluuse of Prayer "; 
 Rr.v'n AM) DKAH Sir, — 
 
 IJeing desirr)u.s of cvinoiiifr in some 
 suitable manner, our respctt for the eminent civilian whom 
 " the TIiL'h and ^liirhty lliilcr of th(> Universe" has rccciitlv 
 called to His rest, and believing that there can be no more 
 appropriate way in which to honor the dead, than by calling to 
 our aid one of the ministers of that' Holy Religion which 
 supported him when earthly things were passing away — re- 
 spectfully request that you will, — at evening service on the day 
 appointed by the City authorities for the observance of tlie 
 obsequies of Henry Ci.av, at " The House of Prayer," or in 
 such other edifice, and upon such other occasion as shall best 
 suit your convenience, deliver a sermon or an eulogy upon the 
 great man, who after long serving his country well, has gone 
 down to the house appointed for all the living, in the hope of a 
 blessed immortality. 
 
 A. W. ^VALI)I?()X, 
 THOS. 11. bTi:rilKNS, 
 CILVS. K. BISHOP, 
 GEO. M. ROBI-SOX, 
 THOS. T. KINNKV, 
 
 ALEX, rooi^ 
 
 CHAS. 0. BOLLES. 
 DAN. DODD, Jr., 
 DEN .MS OSBORN. 
 WATERS!'. AV1L1J.\MS 
 r. C. GARTHWAITi; 
 FRED. G. SCRHiA, 
 HENRY G. D.\R(V, 
 THEn. RI.WO.N, 
 WM. HENRY CAMP. 
 
 JOHN R. WEEKS, 
 JOHN W. GARTH WAITE 
 WM. S. FAITOLTE 
 JOSEPH L ALDEN, 
 JOHN CllADWICK, 
 GEO. C. TIIORIJIRN, 
 JOHN SP]{OSTON, 
 HENRY W. DIRYEE, 
 THOS. A. STAYNER, 
 J NO. J. YOl N(;. 
 AV.M. CLEVELAND, 
 WM. M. LEWIS. 
 11. K. LMMtAHAAr, 
 W.M. GAH'llIWAlTi; Jr.. 
 JONATJIA.N J;ilH). 
 
Newark, 2d Aug. 1852. 
 To Messrs. Camp, Scriba, and Gtarthwaite, Committee of 
 
 the Young Men of Newark : 
 Gentlemen, — 
 
 I have been t^irice touched ; by your favour, and 
 your partiality. Once, when you asked me to address you. 
 And, now, when you have asked the privilege to print what I 
 delivered. 
 
 I accede to your request. The same motives which induced 
 me to attempt to gratify jour wish, that I should preach to 
 you on the occasion of the death of a great man, whom I had 
 known — now make me furnish you a copy for its publication. 
 My great desire is, that it should help those, who are ambi- 
 tions to be eminently great, to believe, that, they will be ex- 
 pected to be practically good. 
 I remain. 
 
 Very sincerely. 
 
 Your friend, 
 
 SAMUEL L. SOUTHARD. 
 
TO 
 
 "THE YULWG ME\ OF XKWARK." 
 
 ■WHO, 
 
 IN RECENT YEARS, 
 
 BY 
 
 TIIKJK DEVOTKJN TO TUP: CAUSE, 
 OF LEARNING AND RELIGION, 
 
 AND OF ART, 
 HAVE BECOME KNOWN, 
 
 BEYOND THE LIMITS OF THEIR CITV 
 
 THIS EFFOKT, 
 
 TO BENEFIT AND I'LEASE TIIEM, 
 
 18, 
 
 WITH MUCH PLEASURE, 
 
 AND WITH GKATITl'DE, 
 
 INSCRIBED. 
 
" Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way r by 
 taking heed thereto according to thy word." — Ps. xix. 9. 
 
 " The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the 
 way of righteousness." — Prov. vL 31. 
 
SERMON. 
 
 "Grant that those my two sons, niny sit, the one on tliy right hand, 
 nnd tlic other ou the left, in thy kingdom" — St. Matt. xx. 21. 
 
 Truly, "the last enemy that shall be destroyed 
 is Death !" By a single stroke, of his, a whole 
 nation is bereaved ! 
 
 Our ears are filled with the still lingering sound 
 of the funereal strains of music, and the sad tones 
 of bells. A pall, of sadness, has been sjDread upon 
 a people's heart — as if all hearts were one! 
 Throughout the length of this extended country, 
 and in all the bosoms of its population, one grief 
 is known, one death is wept, one name is honored! 
 One deep drawn sigh has heaved the full breast of 
 this entire nation, and millions of the heads of 
 freemen, bow, in the act of resignation to the will 
 of God — as if the cedars of his Lebanon, or the 
 mighty forest of his Carmcl, were bending, at the 
 
10 
 
 breathing of His tempest, or, at the bidding of 
 His word ! In the nation's falhng tears, there is 
 the drenching rain of sorrow ; and, in that uni- 
 versal sigh, the token of submission ; and, in that 
 act of resignation to the will of Providence, there 
 is a true religion ! 
 
 No deeper woe has ever touched "the electric 
 chain " wherewith a nation may be bound ! It 
 came not unperceived. The cloud, freighted with 
 its dark tidings, had been noticed in the sky ; and 
 the eyes of millions watched it as it deepened, and 
 then settled down upon the object of its mission, 
 till the stroke was given ; and the lightning flash 
 was carried by a thousand lines, and reproduced 
 its fearful light in every corner of the land ! 
 Men knew, at the same time, at the remotest 
 bounds of the great country he had served, that 
 Henry Clay was gone ! Gone, from the theatre 
 of his exertions and renown ! Gone, from the 
 counsels of the nation, which he had so many 
 times directed and adorned ! Gone, from the 
 country, on whose highest interests he had en- 
 graved his name ! Gone, from the people, with 
 whose liberty he had forever linked his fame ! 
 Gone, from the countless eyes which ever watched 
 his coming ; and whose admiration kindled, and 
 
not lessened, at the appearing of liis manly form ; 
 and whose earnest gaze lirst eaught, and then sent 
 baek again, the brightness of his own ! Gone, 
 where the countless liands, whose welcome he had 
 known might not draw nigh, as yet, to take his 
 hand again ! Gone, so that, never more on earth, 
 their sympathies miglit be awakened, and their 
 love of country roused, their deepest feelings 
 stirred ; or else, their rising passions quelled ; by 
 his pathetic voice, by his commanding tone ! 
 Gone, from among the living ! Gone, to the 
 Paradise of God ! Gone, where the dead repose ! 
 Gone, from the country's firmament ; from its 
 bright galaxy of living ornaments, and orators, 
 and statesmen ; as if some brilliant star, not 
 quenched, but only set, (though it should be, 
 forever,) had left the admiring world without its 
 beaming light ! while adding to the lustre of the 
 state in which the gathered dead are resting ; and 
 (though unseen by us,) relieved from every mist 
 of life's infirmities, shining with greater glory, in 
 the nether skv ! 
 
 And all that remains of him on earth — his moul- 
 dering body — the clay, in which his deathless spirit 
 dwelt — the statue, without life — the oracle, de- 
 serted of its inspiration and the power of its 
 
12 
 
 speech ; — the oracle, once sought by multitudes, 
 and swaying multitudes by its behests ; the oracle, 
 on which the worshippers are calling now, in vain ; 
 the oracle, which once had power to command — 
 which moved in recognition of the offering — which 
 spoke in answer to enquiry, but which, now, is 
 motionless and dumb ; the form, which was erect, 
 amid the wildest tempests of aggression, and in 
 all the trials of the State ; the form, which rose, 
 amid the mass of his associates, as his great spirit 
 towered among men ; the form, which has suc- 
 cumbed, at length, to age, and to disease and 
 death — to the one (save by Jesus Christ,) as yet, 
 unconquered, enemy of man — but which (dis- 
 daining human servitude, and bowing to no man) 
 had, in its vigor, with its eye undimmed, and with 
 its force yet unabated, knelt before the throne ; 
 the form, majestic in the field, and as commanding 
 in the quietude of private life, and the secluded 
 sacredness of home ; the form, wdiich bent as lowly 
 in its adoration of the Deity, as it stood uplifted 
 in the raging storm ; — the lifeless bod}^ of the 
 Statesman and the Orator, and of the Christian 
 man, has reached its resting-place — has entered its 
 long home : — borne in a nation's state ; guarded 
 by generous hearts and noble arms — borne, at the 
 
r 
 
 13 
 
 nation's call, by some of her best citizens and most 
 distinguished men — received in sackcloth every- 
 where — followed by thousands of admirers and 
 of friends — his person honored in his life ; his pall, 
 in death, more wet with the same people's tears ! 
 I am not a))le to endorse, without reserve, the 
 language of a chivalrous and much-admired man, 
 who helped to bear him to his sepulchre ; while 
 yet it shows the evidence of the whole people's 
 grief, and the sincerity and depth of the pervad- 
 ing sorrow ; and it testifies to the appreciation of 
 the great — and it relieves the people, somewhat, 
 of the charge of their ingratitude — and it assures 
 us, (after he was gone,) of his success : — " I never 
 saw, at every place we reached, so many people 
 mourning, and so many tears. I never saw such 
 feeling. I thought that my political ambition had 
 all died ; but I have seen, in this outjiouring of the 
 people's hearts, something to hve for — something 
 for which to die !" I appreciate the language. I 
 take in the fulness of the thought. The wish, if 
 I were other than I am, might be my own. But I 
 am taught, and it is made my privilege to teach to 
 other men, that, though the benedictions of man- 
 kind are to be valued, the " well done " of God, is 
 more to be desired still ; and if success attend us, 
 
14 
 
 or if we shall go unhonored to the grave, the 
 greater destiny remains unaltered, and the path 
 of duty is the same. While, yet, I own, were I a 
 public man, and called upon to die, whose race 
 was run ; next to my soul's salvation and "the 
 peace of God," I should appreciate and wish the 
 benedictions of the free, the grateful homage of the 
 many, and the heartfelt lamentations of the people, 
 whose interest and happiness I had endeavored to 
 promote. 
 
 And, again, he said (when speaking to me of his 
 sickness, and his resignation, and his christian 
 death) — " God's kindness to him, and his prepara- 
 tion, and his faith, ought to be known. God's 
 mercy to him, in his lingering illness, and his hap- 
 py death, ought to be preached about — ought to 
 be known!" And, I answered, I have felt the 
 obligation ; and as opportunity may serve me, I 
 will call the attention of the people to his resigna- 
 tion and his patience, and his hopeful death ! 
 
 And now, he is no more — on earth ! His great 
 career is over; his long, and earnest, and victorious 
 race, is run ! The halls of Legislation shall no 
 longer ring with his persuasive eloquence, nor with 
 his fearful admonitions, nor with his call " to 
 arms " ! His late companions shall no longer profit 
 
 1 
 
15 
 
 by his timely wisdom, nor rally round him, as 
 their leader, in the hour of the country's dan^^er, 
 nor hang, in charmed and breathless silence, on his 
 words! The nation's council fires shall no longer 
 throw their ruddy light upon his lurni ! The 
 ranks of his admirers shall no longer watch, along 
 the line of conflict, for the waving of his plume ! 
 He has filled up the measure of his service, and 
 the measure of his fame. 
 
 And he is gone. J^ut, as another eloquently 
 said, respecting the departure of distinguished men, 
 " how little is there of the great and good which 
 can die ! To their country they yet live, and live 
 forever. They live in all that perpetuates the 
 remembrance of men on earth ; in the recorded 
 proofs of their own great actions — in the oflspring 
 of their intellect — in the deep-engraved lines of 
 public gratitude, and in the respect and homage 
 of mankind. They hve in their example ; and 
 they live, emphatically, and will live, in the inllu- 
 ence which their lives and effbrts, their principles 
 and opinions, now exercise, and will continue to 
 exercise, on the affairs of men, not only in their 
 own country, but throughout the civilized world. 
 A superior and commanding human intellect, a 
 truly great man, when Heaven vouchsafes so rare 
 
16 
 
 a gift, is not a temporary flame, burning brightly 
 for awhile, and then giving place to returning dark- 
 ness. It is rather a spark of fervent heat, as well 
 as radiant light, with power to enkindle the com- 
 mon mass of human mind ; so that when it glim- 
 mers in its own decay, and finally goes out in 
 death, no night follows, but it leaves the world all 
 light, all on fire, from the potent contact of its 
 own spirit ! Bacon died ; but the human under- 
 standing, roused by the touch of his miraculous 
 wand, to a perception of the true philosophy and 
 the just mode of inquiring after truth, has kept 
 on its course successfully and gloriously. Newton 
 died ; yet the courses of the spheres are still 
 known, and they yet move on by the laws which 
 he discovered, and in the orbits which he saw and 
 described for them, in the infinity of space." And, 
 we may add, that Henry Clay has died ; but the 
 principles which he espoused are living ; and the 
 counsels which he gave are cherished ; and the 
 influence of his example will be felt ; and we be- 
 lieve, as well as trust, that, while the Union shall 
 continue ; while freedom, in America, shall last ; 
 while regulated liberty shall have a home upon the 
 earth ; his counsels will be studied — his example 
 will be followed — his eloquence admired — the 
 
 
17 
 
 imiorcss of his genius will bo seen — the influence 
 of his exertions will be felt — his name in every 
 school of liberty be known ! 
 
 And he has calmly died — in the full measure of 
 his days — as ripened fruit falls from the tree ! 
 
 And he has gently died — as flowers fold their 
 leaves at set of sun ! 
 
 And he has gone to rest, as waves subside upon 
 the sea! 
 
 And he has laid him down, as victors do, whose 
 race is run ! 
 
 He died — not as the warrior, upon the field of 
 carnage and of blood — but on the theatre of his 
 renowned, though bloodless, victories — where all 
 his battles have been fought, and all his fame was 
 won ! 
 
 He died — not all at once, in manhood, at the 
 zenith of his strength — but " like the mildness, 
 the serenity, the continuing, benignity of a sum- 
 mer's day, he has gone down with slow-descending, 
 grateful, long-lingering light." 
 
 Young men of Newark ! 3"0u have asked me to 
 preach to you, to-night, on the occasion of the 
 death of Henry Clay. And though, for many 
 reasons, I might well have shrunk from such a 
 task, it seemed to me to be the call of duty, and I 
 
 3 
 
18 
 
 thought I could perceive in it a providential 
 opportunity, for usefulness to you ; and I felt, in 
 my own breast, the beating of a heart responsive 
 to your own. 
 
 But now, beyond the brief allusions I have 
 made, what further shall I say ? Could I forget 
 the office which I hold, and my position here, I 
 might discuss his mind and eloquence, his useful- 
 ness and actions, as a public man. I might enlarge 
 upon the services which constitute his fame. I 
 might, at least, myself, be wrapt in extacies as 
 others are ; for I, too, am a man, of passions like 
 your own — swayed by the breeze, and dazzled by 
 the blaze, and affected by the storm. I also could 
 be held in contemplation of his excellence, his 
 services and his renown ! 
 
 But, such is not my line. I am to seize on the 
 religious features of his great example, and to 
 press the teachings of his life, and his departure, 
 home. I cannot speak of him in his more public 
 character, and simply as a man. Not, that I did 
 not know him, well. I knew him, from my child- 
 hood, to his grave ! I knew him, as but few have 
 ever known the giants of their day. I knew him, 
 when the helm of State was first entrusted to his 
 hand. I knew him, when he would leave the 
 
19 
 
 sterner scenes of mental conflict, and tlirow off the 
 crushing weight of his responsibihties, and gambol 
 with me as a child. I knew him, in that public 
 light, where only virtues shine — and I knew him, 
 in that private light, where, only, men are known, 
 I knew him, not as public men are met, on state 
 occasions, and adorned with the insignia of office 
 and of place, but every day. I knew him by the 
 quiet hearth, where all was still ; when, wearied 
 by the labors of his office — when, 
 " Da}^ with its burden and heat had departed, and 
 
 twilight descending 
 BroH-ight back the evening star to the sky, and 
 the herds to the homestead." 
 And he 
 " Sat in his elbow-chair, and watched how the 
 
 flames and the smoke wreaths 
 Struggled together like foes in a burning city. 
 
 Behind him, 
 Nodding and mocking along the wall, with ges- 
 tures fantastic. 
 Darted his own ' long' shadow, and vanished away 
 
 into darkness." 
 And I knew him, alike in my childhood and man- 
 hood, as he stood, in his greatest glory, the admired 
 of all, and the object of, almost, worship, on the 
 
20 
 
 floor of the American Senate ! I remember his 
 voice in his table-talk, and when it rang in the 
 evening's diversion ; and I have heard it command 
 every Senator's ear, and thrill every one of the 
 people ; and it floated, upon the surrounding air, 
 like strains of impassioned music ! 
 
 I was with him, alone, in his chamber, when he 
 composed his masterly speech, on the occasion of 
 an imminent crisis ; and his opening words in the 
 Senate were these, viz. : — "We are in the midst 
 of a revolution ; hitherto, bloodless ! " Words 
 which impressed every hearer ! — words, which 
 never can fade from my memory's ear ! — words, 
 which cannot die while I live ! — Avords, (I am sure 
 that you will excuse me) repeated many times to 
 his son, by my own father ! — " We are in the midst 
 of a revolution ; hitherto, bloodless !" Who can 
 forget the saying? Who would not be the im- 
 mortal orator ? Who would not be the author of 
 these words ? 
 
 But I must choose another line ; and, in aban- 
 doning his public services, in turning from the 
 theatre where he acquired his renown, to speak to 
 you in a religious way, and tell you of his testi- 
 mony to the worth of Christianity, and his reliance 
 on atoning blood, and his appreciation of an 
 
21 
 
 humble piety ; I shall not only follow the sug- 
 gestions of my heart, and the loud call of duty, 
 but do as he would have me do, if he were living : 
 for I knew him, also, as a christian man — and 1 
 remember his example, and gather courage and 
 encouragement (I would it might be insj)iration !) 
 from the backward gaze and the devout, benign, 
 expression of his shade ! If I speak not of tlie 
 earthly scenes in which he has acquired his re- 
 nown, I shall be speaking of severer struggles^ 
 and of better victories upon another field ; wherein 
 he triumphed over self, and where he won a name, 
 a christian name, which will not perish ; and cre- 
 ated, by his own repentance, "joy in Heaven," 
 and gained a title to a better crown ! 
 
 I shall say nothing to you, which I am not sure 
 that he would of himself suggest, or else approve, 
 if he were here. I am sure that he would rather 
 lead you to everlasting happiness, than to the 
 highest places of the earth, and to a fading wreath, 
 and to a temporal glory ! I am sure that he 
 would rather have you all unknown on earth, than 
 have you unacknowledged in eternity. I am sure 
 that he would, most of all, desire every one of you 
 to shine as a particular star, when this, so tran- 
 sient, flickering, life, is lost, like his, in the contin- 
 uing, constant light of immortality ! 
 
22 
 
 And I am glad that, in his life and death, there 
 is enough of a religious character on which to 
 dwell — far more than I have power to impress and 
 time to tell. Had he not been a christian man — 
 had he not died "in faith," I might have spoken 
 elsewhere of his services, or of his eloquence, but, 
 here, I had been dumb. A civil orator would 
 speak to you of his abilities, and of his statesman- 
 ship, and of his talents, as a man — as if (although 
 unmeant,) the credit of the possession of those 
 talents was his own ; while I am bound to put you 
 in remembrance of that which is most commonly 
 forgotten, that his talents, for your benefit, and 
 for his country's service, and, consequently, for his 
 fame, were all the gift of God — and that from the 
 acknowledgement of this, results a debt of thank- 
 fulness, not only to be spoken of, but in your dail}'- 
 living to be paid, from you to Him ! 
 
 Young men ! there is occasion for my speaking 
 so. The talents of all great men are conceded, at 
 least they are acknowledged, upon every hand, as 
 soon as they are dead. And since the voice which, 
 for so many years, had led in the debate, and 
 charmed the multitudes, and plead the cause of 
 human liberty, was hushed in death, a thousand 
 orators have told the people of his talents, and 
 
23 
 
 services, and worth ; but it becomes us to discrim- 
 inate between the mere possession of sut-h gifts, 
 and their improvement — and their appHcation to 
 the service and the benefit of other men. How- 
 ever better motives may be mingled Avitli tlio Inst 
 of personal ambition ; in all those who have attain- 
 ed to eminence, and been their country's pride, Ave 
 must allow that those Avho have been real blessino-s 
 in their day and generation, being useful to their 
 country and mankind, have, in that measure which 
 our frail humanity can fill, performed their duty, 
 and have done the will of God, although it be 
 imperfectly. But, Henry Clay was not the authoi- 
 of his talents, any more than every man is his own 
 father ! God gave them ! The Almighty lent 
 them to him for his use. If he has been a blessing 
 to the world — if he has done his generation good 
 — if he has given the world occasion to rejoice 
 that he has lived — God may reward him for the 
 proper use of his own talents, but the praise of 
 his abilities belongs to God ! Their misdirection, 
 if he shall have erred, may add to his immense 
 responsibility ; but the praise, that he was as he 
 was, is all of God ! 
 
 Except that man has been endowed with a su- 
 blime free-agency, which renders him responsible 
 
24 
 
 to " let his light so shine that other men may see," 
 such praise belongs as well to every planet, and to 
 every star, alone, or in a galaxy, which spangles 
 the blue firmament, and glistens in the sky ! If, 
 then, you have been wont to look upon him as a 
 a leader — or, differing in sentiment and politics, 
 you have been able, only, to concede his talent, 
 and his rare abilities, and value, as a man — if you 
 consider that he did his generation and his country 
 honor — that he contributed, with other men, to 
 our own peace and happiness, to the regulation and 
 the perpetuity of liberty, to the increasing blaze 
 of our own country's glory — be thankful unto 
 God ; — to Him belongs the praise ! God is the 
 author of all brilliant gifts, as well as of all " honest 
 men." And if to " look from Nature up to Nature's 
 God" — from Nature, which is ever various and 
 beautiful to look upon — from Nature, which is un- 
 explored in its variety — from Nature which has 
 graces infinite — from Nature, which has sermons 
 in its stones, and thought in every thing — from 
 Nature, on each rock of which some hope is 
 founded, and on every bough some pleasing fancy 
 will be hung — on Nature, which is busy only with 
 the finite, and which, though full of eloquence, 
 has not a human tongue — if it be well to look from 
 
26 
 
 Xatiirc up to Nature's God, how better, to reflect 
 that he is Man's Creator, and the maker of us all ! 
 Not, in their blindness and their unbelief, (because 
 the clearer light of a more perfect revelation shines 
 in our day) ; not, in their blindness and their un- 
 belief, but in the spirit of their gratitude, who 
 witnessed, at one time, the miracles of Jesus 
 Christ, I feel disposed to give all praise to God, 
 " who hath given such power unto men," when- 
 ever I hear a useful orator, or mark the ])rilliant 
 course of statesmen, or feel an, almost, reverential 
 awe of a great public man ! I look upon them as 
 not merely "self- created," (as is sometimes said — 
 and said when all the thought is bent on the ex- 
 ertions of the man) — when care is taken that all 
 credit should be given which is merited (and often- 
 times great credit is deserved) by their endeavors 
 in the improvement of the talents which have 
 been committed to their charge — but not a grate- 
 ful thought is given, to the wisdom and benevo- 
 lence of Him, who has dispensed his choicest gifts, 
 for our benefit, and struck out such bright sparks 
 of intellect in our time : I look upon them as 
 not merely "self-created," but created by a power 
 greater than their own ; — as being the vouchsafmgs 
 of the Deity — as being the more startling tokens 
 
 4 
 
26 
 
 of Omnipotence — as being (it is reverently said) 
 the seeming instances of greatest genius, in crea- 
 ting ; among the highest exhibitions of His charity, 
 the more brilhant corruscations of the Hght, of 
 intellect, which has come down from Heaven 1 
 And so, if we but think of this, and rest not in the 
 man ; whenever we are struck by talents which are 
 wonderful, or are arrested by the great achieve- 
 ments of distinguished men, we shall be led, as 
 surely as the observation of a work of man's in- 
 vention leads to praise of him by whom the instru- 
 ment was made, we shall be led to worship the 
 Creator for His power and His love ! 
 
 And, better than all service to the State — of 
 more importance than his influence in council — 
 than his efforts to secure prosperity, or to avert, 
 at any time, the incalculable evils of civil or of 
 foreign war — the most heroic of his acts, the 
 noblest service which he rendered to his country 
 and the world — the most eloquent of his appeals 
 to all young men ; as patriots, to whose hands the 
 destinies of the Republic are, in time, to be per- 
 haps, entrusted ; as men, ambitious to be useful ; 
 as men, desirous of a deathless fame ; as men, 
 aspiring to true dignity ; as mortals, who must die ; 
 and, as immortals, before whom is stretching on 
 
27 
 
 the endless vista, of eternity — was. his testimony 
 to the necessity and vakie of reUgion ! Without 
 it, "talents Angel bright " may be but " shining 
 instruments in false ambitious hand, to finish 
 faults illustrious, and give infumy renown"! "With- 
 out it, he was conscious that no one can be a man. 
 Without it, he was conscious that his whole ex- 
 ample was, so far, impure. Without it, he was 
 conscious that he would be leading other men 
 astray. Without it, he would be ungrateful for 
 his gifts of wisdom and of eloquence, and of his 
 power over men. Without it, the best grace 
 were wanting in his character. Without it, he 
 could have no real consolation in his life, and, when 
 his race was i:un he must forever die ! Young 
 men ! he has been lauded as a statesman : — you 
 have heard, perhaps, his elocjuence ; — this, of his 
 virtues was the crown ! And the greatest lesson 
 of his life was this, — no man is truly great with- 
 out religion ! "A Christian is the highest style of 
 man." Let him be great — let him be wise — let 
 him be prudent — and in the estimation of the bet- 
 ter portion of mankind, and in the eye of God, he 
 yet maybe a curse and not a blessing ! His efforts 
 may avert some temporal evil ; and his life may 
 have encouraged other men in infidelit}-, whose 
 
28 
 
 recompense may be eternal ! No one can be a 
 man , without religion ! No one, without it, can 
 be truly great. No one, in the opinion even of the 
 world, can ever be so great. And Henry Clay, 
 for several years before his death, was a religious 
 man. I have seen him in the Senate, all erect in 
 form and carriage, in his conscious pride of in- 
 tellect and of command — and I have seen him 
 bending as a worshipper, and kneeling on the floor. 
 I have heard him, with profound respect, in the 
 great conflict of distinguished minds, where Greek 
 met Greek, suggesting ways of human wisdom, 
 and providing for the safety of the State. But 
 I have listened to him, with still deeper interest, 
 and with increased regard, and. with intenser 
 feeling, as he joined in " the confession," in the 
 public service of the Church ; and when relying 
 on " the everlasting arms," he said, " Good Lord, 
 deliver us !" With childish admiration, I ran up to 
 him, as he received the plaudits of the Senate ; 
 the thanks, and the congratulations, of the emi- 
 nently great : — with the tribute of a christian 
 manhood, I approached him, as he rose, from 
 bended knees, upon his feet ! He offered, on his 
 country's altar, his energies, his talents, and his 
 life — but, his"ljest offering, and the sublimest act. 
 
29 
 
 and the most touching scene, of his career, were, 
 at the font! I thought him greater, in "the 
 assembly of the saints" — than in the Senate! 
 I thought him greater, in his huniihty ; in his 
 acknowledgement of his dependence upon God ; 
 than in his lawful pride. I thought him greater, 
 when he oflered up himself, upon the altar — than 
 when the masses burned their incense unto him ! 
 He bore, with greater satisfaction, on his brow, 
 the tracings of the cross, than the deep lines of 
 thought, or title to command ! 
 
 Young men, if you admire his career — if you 
 would pay him honor — if you are willing to con- 
 sult him, as an oracle — if you revere his name — 
 copy his late example — hear him, in his maturity 
 — hear him, as I am confident he would address 
 y^ou, now ! I love the rising sun ! It breaks 
 upon the night. It, all the time, increases, in its 
 glory. — It is full of promise at the dawn — it floods 
 the world, with light ! But, men judge better, 
 of his influence, and his effect, at noon ! and 
 calculate the benefit, most certainly, when he is 
 going down ! Follow him, here. Follow him, 
 now ! In youth, he was led on, by the bright 
 sun of his ambition ! In manhood, he may have 
 rejoiced, in his own strength. — The setting sun is 
 
9 
 
 
 
 both my admiration and delight ! It does not 
 seem to be so fired, with ambition ! It does not 
 seem so anxious for the race ! It does not cast, 
 upon the world, such an untempered light, such 
 an untempered heat : — there is a mellowness, in 
 its appearance ; there is a softness, in its light ; 
 there is a mildness, in its heat ! And, now, that 
 Henry Clay has gone — gather, not round his 
 cradle ! Consider him in later years, when his 
 full influence, and his best influence, had been 
 attained — and study the mild splendor of his 
 whole example, towards his " going down." 
 
 He gave his testimony to the value of religion, 
 in the right way ; not as mere declaimers do, who 
 talk religiously, and speak of piety with great 
 respect, (because they dare not do it with con- 
 tempt,) — but, by his practice, by obedience to her 
 commands. And, you need to be reminded of 
 this fact, and to be rescued from the influence of 
 other men. There is a way of talking of religion, 
 and speaking, in round terms, and sometimes 
 eloquently too, of Christianity, as the great light 
 and blessing of the world ; which fills the ear, but 
 not the measure of a good example ; and which 
 may have a bad effect upon the young. It gives 
 them the impression, that, not only do the country, 
 
31 
 
 and the times, rc({uire some show of a respect lor 
 piety, in every public man ; but, that, tlie hui- 
 guage of respect is all that is demanded — and, 
 hence, the insidious thought, (but lialf acknow- 
 ledged to themselv'es,) that public men are not 
 expected to be good ! AVhy they should not be, 
 who is able to declare ? AVhy they may not be, 
 neither are we able to discover — for, there is no 
 inconsistency between the duties one may render 
 to his country, and the duties of rehgion ; between 
 the claims of piety, and of the state. Nay, in our 
 Avay and measure, to do the state some service, (if 
 it fall to our lot,) becomes a duty of religion. 
 Why should they not be, who are entrusted with 
 such vast, and holy interests, and are charged 
 w^ith so great responsibilities ? Why should they 
 not be, who are set as lights to guide the steps of 
 other men ? upon whose actions there is fixed the 
 steady gaze of millions, not only of the middle- 
 aged, but of the ambitious, plastic, imitative, 
 young? Or, is the shrine, of liberty, the only 
 one, which needs no priesthood of its own ? And 
 is the flame so deathless, and so pure, on freedom's 
 altar, that, though fed, it may be, by unhallowed 
 hands, it will burn on, by day and night, forever! 
 Young men, you must be practically good, in 
 order to be eminently great. 
 
32 
 
 Gather we, now, around the sick bed of that 
 dying man ! Who makes all his bed in his sick- 
 ness ? The Almighty ! The One, of whose 
 service he was not ashamed, in his health, while 
 " his eye was not dim, nor his natural force 
 abated," He is alone, with only those who attend 
 him — shut up in his weary room — shut out from 
 the theatre of his glory — shut in from the free 
 air of heaven ! No crowds, now, are gathered 
 before him — no Senate is hushed at his rising : — 
 he moves — but his step is enfeebled : — he motions, 
 but the nurse only heeds him : — he speaks, and 
 his nurse only hears him ! All is gone, which 
 used to arouse him. He is never more to appear 
 in the Senate. All is gone, but religion ! All is 
 gone, but the faith, and repentance, in which 
 alone he found rest ! 
 
 What is it, that, cheers him ? that fills up, in a 
 mind such as his, the room of his labors ? that 
 makes him a child in his spirit ? that makes him 
 resigned to his fate ? that makes his eye calm ? 
 and his voice to be always gentle ? and his pain 
 to be, almost, sweet ? It is the force of religion ! 
 
 What is he seeing? as his eye has that pleased, 
 but abstracted gaze, as if looking at something 
 which is not of earth, very fair, and apparent to 
 
I 
 
 33 
 
 liim ; as if in the distance? It may be "the 
 intermediate state "—with its rest, and its people, 
 and flowers ! It may be, a throne is in sight, 
 which he hopes to inherit ! It may be, he sees, 
 in a clearer light, the worth of religion. 
 
 To whom is he speaking, when his lips only 
 move, and his eye is closed, and his voice does 
 not follow.? It may be, that, he is in prayer! 
 " I am going !" he feels the approach ; he knows 
 that the moment is coming. The vision increases, 
 in Hght : — the darkness is gathering, here — and, 
 there, the veil is upKfting! "I am going" — his 
 words are proj)hetic ! " I am going"— he sees, 
 Avhat we cannot see ! he feels, what we cannot 
 know! Fancy might fly over the waters, of 
 death ; and return, like the wearied dove, with 
 no " leaf"! And faith might dive, in the waters, 
 of death, and bring no pearl from beneath ! He 
 sees, what we cannot see ! and he feels, what we 
 cannot know! 
 
 A moment more, and his words are fulfilled — 
 and the christian man, and the Statesman, is gone ! 
 I see him — but not near! I see him — but not 
 nigh ! Young men — could you wish he had not 
 been a christian man ? Was he ever more great, 
 than in his sick room ? Did he not rightly die ? 
 
34 
 
 His shade would reprove me, and my own con- 
 science condemn me, if I did not add the advice 
 to which all these remarks have been tending. 
 
 He had faults ; — and his early life was marred 
 by excesses. But, he wept over these ; and stamp- 
 ed them with reprobation : — and we cannot deny 
 that silence, which is bought by repentance ! 
 
 But, in one thing, do not follow his example — • 
 in putting off your repentance until you are old. 
 He regretted it, while he was living — he would 
 tell you so, now. He would warn you against 
 the answer of youth, and of manhood, and some- 
 times, of hoary age ; to the calls of the preacher, 
 or the voice of the spirit — " when I am old." 
 Ah, can you count upon old age ? and if it comes, 
 upon the opportunity ? on the calm pulse, and 
 the clear mind ? and on the lengthened day of 
 grace ? and on the readiness, which we but seldom 
 find? 
 
 Besides the loss of all that might have been 
 acquired for eternity, there is the dread uncer- 
 tainty ! I know, at times, the mercy is vouchsafed. 
 Some wait till they are old, and yet God suffers 
 them to make sucli preparation for eternity, as 
 justifies the hope of a happy immortality, of some 
 degree of glory. The instance of that brilhant 
 
35 
 
 star, wliose recent going down, in deatli, has left a 
 place, to be unfilled, perliaj)s, for generations, in 
 our country's sk}^ — confirms the exhaustless 
 mercy, and long-suHeriug of God — but, as a rare 
 exception, preaches to the young. He offered all 
 he could, while yet in all the pride of manly 
 intellect, and the enjoyment of renown ! The 
 master mind, still in its energy, was bowed in 
 awe. And the great heart, whose full pulsations 
 reached the limits of the world, was bathed in 
 penitental tears : — his spirit, in its strength, put 
 on the garment of humility! And, there was 
 granted him, some years of service. And a long, 
 lingering illness, (which might gently break the 
 spell of the attractions of his popularity, and the 
 enchantments of the world — which ever preached 
 to him, from day to day — through weakness, and 
 through agony : — sometimes in tenderness, and 
 then, wdth the sharp voice of its reproof: — whicli, 
 as a handmaid, waited on, and served the move- 
 ments of devotion ; which, as a teacher, trained 
 him, for his death, and immortality :) — and, he has 
 gone ; — and, " at that day," we trust that he will 
 wear a crown ; — not, for his service to the State, 
 but, for his penitence : — not, for his fervor, but 
 his faith : — not, for his daring, but submission : — 
 
36 
 
 not, for his eloquence, but his acknowledgment 
 
 of the Redeemer, as the author of the world's 
 salvation, and his own. 
 
 • But, his was not the fate of many men. 
 
 You cannot count upon long suffering: — you 
 
 cannot count upon a cloudless evening sky : — 
 
 you cannot count upon longevity ! And, from 
 
 the dying Statesman's bed, there comes a voice, 
 
 addressed to every being, here, " whije you 
 
 are young :" — while you are young, enter 
 
 the race, with the athlete ! While you are 
 
 young, contend for mastery! While you are 
 
 young, encourage piety ! While you are young, 
 
 improve the time of preparation for eternity ! 
 
 Lay hold upon the brighest crowns — lay hold 
 
 upon the greenest palms — mount to the highest 
 
 thrones, "while you are young!" Aye, — and, in 
 
 time — before the tyrant death, shall lay his cold, 
 
 and pulseless, hand, upon your beating hearts, and 
 
 say, be still — be still! — "while you are young!" 
 
 Salome, mother of St. James, and of St. John, 
 
 desired, that, they might sit, the one upon his 
 
 right hand, and the other, on the left, of the 
 
 Redeemer, in his kingdom, (It is written in the 
 
 gospel for the day.) Her mind was on the earth. 
 
 She thought his kingdom would be here. And 
 
87 
 
 lie replied, "ye know not what ye a.sk." "It 
 shall be given unto them, for whom it is prei)ared 
 of my Father!" His "kingdom is not of this 
 world." It was, perhaps, a natural amhition. It 
 was, no doubt, the ambition of her sons. It is, 
 perhaps, the wish of, almost, every mother. It 
 is, perhaps, the wish of every son. But, there is, 
 yet, a better kingdom, which shall come — not 
 here ! — not now ! — not of this world ! — to come ; 
 when sceptres rust ; and when the bones of kings 
 are mouldered into dust ! It shall prosper ! Its 
 glory shall not fade ! Its crowns shall never 
 wither ! Its people shall not die ! Seek, there, 
 for wealth — seek there for popularity — seek there 
 for fame ! (I am speaking, as it were, by the 
 authorit}^ of his last years — and, ahnost, in his 
 name.) Mothers, " ye. know not what ye ask," 
 who only seek for temporal distinction for your 
 sons. Young men, ye know not what ye ask, 
 who seek for place, on earth, as the great end, of 
 being ! Ye may drink, deeply, of that cup — and 
 be baptized, to freedom, in your blood — but to 
 sit upon the right hand, and the left hand, of the 
 throne, which shall outlast republics ; which shall 
 stand immoveably, alone, when time is over, and 
 its kingdoms perished, and its glory gone : — by 
 
38 
 
 penitence, and faith, and charity ; and, by the 
 unappreciated grace of a sincere humility ; is to 
 be won ! Seek there — Seek there, for endless 
 peace, and endless happiness, and endless fame ! 
 There is no death! All things are true. All 
 things are permanent. All is "in perpetuity," in 
 Heaven ! 
 
f 
 
 GOD, whose days are without end and whose mercies 
 cannot be numbered ; make us, we beseech thee, deeply sensi- 
 ble of the shortness and uncertainty of human life ; and let 
 thy Holy Spirit lead us through this vale of misery, in 
 holiness and righteousness, all the days of our lives : that, 
 when we shall have served thee in our generation, we may be 
 gathered unto our fathers, having the testimony of a good 
 conscience ; in the communion of the catholic Church ; in the 
 confidence of a certain faith ; in the comfort of a reasonable, 
 religious and holy hope ; in favor with thee our God, and in 
 perfect charity with the world : All which we ask through 
 Jesus Christ our Lord. Avutn. 
 
imZS^ O*" CONGRESS 
 
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