I Feel, As Never Before, How Justly,

Literature Is The Voice Of The Age And The State; The Character, Energy, And Resources Of The Country Are Reflected And Imaged Forth In The Conceptions Of Its Great Minds; They Are Organs Of The Time; They Speak Not Their Own Language, They Scarce Think Their Own Thoughts; But Under An Impulse Like The Prophetic Enthusiasm Of Old, They Must Feel And Utter The Sentiments Which Society Inspires.

Though A Hundred Crooked Paths May Conduct To A Temporary Success, The One Plain And Straight Path Of Public And Private Virtue Can Alone Lead To A Pure And Lasting Fame And The Blessings Of Posterity.

There Were Speeches Made In Congress In The Very Last Session Before The Outbreak Of The Rebellion, So Ferocious As To Show That Their Authors Were Under The Influence Of A Real Frenzy.

We Have Now In Our Possession Three Instruments Of Civilization, Unknown To Antiquity. These Are The Art Of Printing; Free Representative Government; And, Lastly, A Pure And Spiritual Religion, The Deep Fountain Of Generous Enthusiasm, The Mighty Spring Of Bold And Lofty Designs, The Great Sanctuary Of Moral Power.

We Are Blessed With A Faith, Which Calls Into Action The Whole Intellectual Man; Which Prescribes A Reasonable Service; Which Challenges The Investigation Of Its Evidences; And Which, In The Doctrine Of Immortality, Invests The Mind Of Man With A Portion Of The Dignity Of Divine Intelligence.