SACRED are the ſorrows for departed worth. Juſt and manly is the ſigh, which paſſes from the boſom at the remembrance of goodneſs and greatneſs expired.—When death diffuſes uncommon horror by laying his waſteful hand upon wiſdom, valour, and every venerable excellence, when human nature loſes its nobles, and a nation is in tears, it is virtue to weep; it is religion to be ſad. Oh, ſons of my country, ye cannot but mourn! Ye, daughters of America, ye are amiably in tears! For the beauty of our Israel is fallen—The staff of its 〈…〉 is no more!—Death, giving his ſtrongeſt proof, that no greatneſs can awe, nor entreaty divert him from his prey, has taken our Washington from among us; and we are left to ſtrive to ſooth our anguiſh, by muſing upon his virtues, and paying our humble tribute to his name.

ON this melancholy occaſion, no words occur to me more ſuitable to guide the meditations of our agitated minds, than the paſſage I have ſelected, for the motto of this diſcourſe. It is the tender lamentation of the deſtined ruler of Iſrael, at the death of the Commander in Chief of their hoſts. While ſimilarity of characters gives peculiar pertinence to the words, they have too a plea in your feelings: for with the moſt plaintive pathos, which nature can expreſs, ſorrow ſits ſpeaking from countenance to countenance; and her yet repeated theme is, "there is a PRINCE and a GREAT MAN fallen this day in Iſrael."

HERE let us conſider, what in the eye of reaſon and Omniſcience imparts luſtre to the character of a Prince, and conſtitutes the eminently great man.—We will then pauſe, and contemplate his exit from the world, with its circumſtances, and effects.—And your hearts will expect, what my feelings will dictate, the obvious concluſion; which the occaſion requires.

IN the firſt place, a broad baſis of civil greatneſs is laid by him, who becomes the noble and virtuous founder of an empire. To give exiſtence to an independent people, and eſtabliſh their national being among the kingdoms of the earth, is the ſublime work only of uncommon talents. It fills us with lofty conceptions of the character, by whom it is effected; and obtains the admiration of remoteſt poſterity. In all ages, nations with aſſiduous pride have embalmed the memories of their founders. Time, the demoliſher of every glorious fabric, has generally reſpected their names. Baſe meaſures, and ſelfiſh conſiderations, have ſometimes diſgraced this vaſt achievement of man; and left us to admire the greatneſs of the work, without one ſentiment of regard for the agent. ROME's founder was ignoble.—The MEDES owed their empire to a monſter.—But, the man, who, animated by the generous thought of extending the dominion of liberty, and giving a distinct field to the exertions of his countrymen, effects the independence and eſtabliſhment of a nation, who, without other motive, than a deſire to render his people great and happy, founds their empire in right, and would have it grow by the vigour of freedom, law, and virtue, who, regardleſs of perſonal emolument, ſeeks only to be loved by them as their affectionate civil father, ſuch a man muſt be conſidered, as raiſed up by Heaven in a favoured land, to conduct one of thoſe grand operations, which involve almoſt an infinitude of intereſts; together with the fate, and character, of millions of the human race.

To lay this unperiſhable baſis of renown is indeed a rare glory. It has belonged only to a few diſtinguiſhed beings, who have been endowed for the work with uncommon powers and reſources. Many have been protecting rulers of a people; and raiſed them to eminent greatneſs and refinement. But, few virtuous founders of empires have ennobled the annals of the world.

IN the ruler, however, there are definite characteriſtics of true greatneſs and glory. Wisdom, firmness, and integrity, are the eſſentials of excellence in a Chief. An active, obſerving mind, enriched with a knowledge of human nature, and of the experiments of paſt ages in governing men—a prudence, inſpiring calm ſurveys of the natures, proſpects, dangers, and reſources, of his people—an uniform form collectedneſs, guarding him againſt ſurprize and deſpondence in urgent moments, enabling him to aſſert and diſcharge his duty, and rendering him unmoveable by the calumnies, to which the conſpicuous muſt ever be expoſed,—above all, an integrity, which ſcorns diſguiſe, which impenetrable and luſtrous, like poliſhed ſteel, holds not a moment the breath of flattery nor abuſe, which, unaffected by ſiniſter conſiderations, is anxious only to be faithful to its truſt—theſe are properties, which form the chief, whoſe glory is pure, and whoſe greatneſs is real. In his ſtation as rule • , he ſtands like a venerable column, raiſed by his people's hearts, concentrating in himſelf, and exhibiting to the world, his country's triumphs, dignity, and juſtice.

THE ſeat of power is not, however, the only place, where we are to look for the traits, which form the glory of a prince, and conſtitute the truly great man. In every act of his life, we may ſee love for his country influencing his conduct; and eminent perſonal magnanimity. It is not power, that he covets. It is not for the ſake of ruling, that he holds the civil reins. In whatever ſtation he can moſt ſerve his country, whether as the leader of her hoſts, as the guide of her councils, or, as a fixed luminary, in private life ſhedding the affecting luſtre of unaſpiring virtue, that ſtation is his choice.—Is he in the field? The love of conqueſt does not inflame his breaſt. His procedure is not governed by an inſatiate zeal for triumph. He is, indeed, courageous; and aims by ſkill and kindneſs to call forth all the proweſs of his troops. But his only object is to defend his country's rights. So ſoon as her honor permits, his language is that of the chief, whom the text bewails; "Shall the sword devour forever? Knowest thou not, that it will be bitterness in the latter end?"II Samuel, ii, 26. Is he in the cabinet? No thirſt for fame, no ſelfiſh ambition, no ignoble hopes, inſtigate his counſels. His country's character is his own. Her proſperity is his aggrandizement. His ſteady aim is to conduct her to greatneſs and felicity, by arts, frugality, order, and virtue, under the bleſt influences of peace. If he be raiſed to ſovereign authority, no pomp of honors, nor pride of pre-eminence, can debaſe his patriot mind.—When he has eſtabliſhed the empire of his wiſhes, ſeen it in good organization, and can ſafely reſign the ſuperintendence of it to another, he appears moſt truly great, if a rare magnanimity prompt him to diſplay the nobleſt act of public virtue, by relinquiſhing ſtation, and power, and their flattering concomitants 〈◊〉 retire 〈◊〉 and exhibit, as a citizen, an obedience to the laws, which as a ruler, he enforced.

BUT public achievements and public honors will not finiſh the character of a prince and great man. There are private virtues, which, though of ſmaller luſtre, are of divine nature. Without theſe no greatneſs is complete. Here is the defect of many of the he •• es of antiquity. Here is the imperfection, which we muſt over regret, in many renowned characters.—They diſplay grandeur of exploit, great proweſs in arms, deep ſkill in legiſlation: but their noble virtues are alone. They want attendants. We ſee none of the humble, humane, domeſtic virtues; without which all glory is deficient. They poſſeſs ſtrength of mind: but we have to deplore its rudeneſs. We find in them collectedneſs; but we look in vain for humanity by its ſide. They ſhew us integrity; but we are obliged to mark the want of courteous eaſe, to render it agreeable.— Intent only upon being public heroes, ſome of them, alas! have been private brutes. Without the amiable qualities of the heart, popular deeds purchaſe but a tinſel renown. He, who is great in worth, as well as name, endeavours to blend with the glories of a Chief, the virtues of a man. One aim regulates his life—to exalt human nature, while he ſerves his country. He is, therefore, ſtudious of every excellence; and his private virtues ſoften the brightneſs of his public accompliſhments into the moſt endearing lovelineſs.

To crown the glorious properties of the truly great character, RELIGION reigns in his boſom. A prince, or ruler, without religion, wants the beſt glory of humanity. He is deſtitute of that, which, as a principle, gives worth to every action; and, as an excellence, reflects a nobler luſtre upon the moſt finiſhed human greatneſs. The virtuous prince, and real patriot, perceives in the ſentiment, which leads him to GOD for guidance, the moſt uſeful truth he can exemplify to his country. For them, it is neceſſary to improvement and to happineſs. In him, it dignifies, every applauded quality. Venerable, as of etherial nature, is the glory, with which the religious principle inveſts civil greatneſs; and now, that the Eternal FATHER "hath ſpoken to us by his SON," the CHRISTIAN GRACES, more than the themes of ancient fame, ennoble the Chief; and perfect the man.

WE have now ſeen the properties, which form a character, princely indeed; and eminently great. Let us pauſe—and contemplate the exit of ſuch a man from the world, with its circumſtances, and effects.

IN itſelf, it is peaceful and glorious. Sweet is the review, which he takes of life. Soothing are the proſpects, which he ſees in death. But for his country's good, he would not wiſh to defer the hour of departure. He expects in it an honourable reſt from his anxious cares for his country's ſafety and improvement. It promiſes him a freedom from that monſtrous ingratitude, which (O ſhame to our nature!) not celeſtial perfection could eſcape. He knows, he ſhall leave a ſpotleſs ſame, which poſterity will venerate. And A CROWN IS BEFORE HIM, IN A REALM OF ETERNAL PEACE. Reſigned to the will of his GOD, he waits his meſſenger. Death cannot deprive him of his luſtre. The Sun, which ſhone bright through the day, ſets in mild ſplendor at eve; and, ſave THE BEAMS which pensive reflection holds, carries its greatneſs and its glories with it.

BUT, though the departure of ſuch a character from the world is, in itſelf, peaceful and glorious, deep ſhades of gloom pervade the regio • , he leaves; and mournful darkneſs, fixed upon every object, he illumined, ſpeaks bereavement.

IN the relatives and friends, whom he loved, and in the ſocieties, with which he was aſſociated, the death of the truly great man touches every tender nerve of ſorrow.—The ties, with which nature, or appropriate affection, unites individuals with ſuch a character, muſt be inexpreſſibly ſtrong and dear. The pride and pleaſure, which we feel, in being any way related to ſuch greatneſs, renders him the glory and delight of each fraternity, that enrols him among its fellows. Every object connected with him, the near perſons of his houſhold, the partners of his confidence, and companions of his life, the ſocieties, civil and religious, to which he belongs, all ſhine, distinguished, in the luſtre of his name. What a loſs then do they ſuſtain, when he expires! How involuntarily do their faces gather anguiſh! They heave the ſigh of regret—They ſeek the ſympathy of grief—They wear the inſignia of ſorrow—But—alas! The heart of the relative is rent! The boaſt of the ſocieties is gone!

TO A NATION the death of ſuch a Prince and great man is one of the moſt ſolemn bereavements, it can ſuſtain. In his country ſuch a man is a centre of union, a ſource of light, and a reſervoir of ſtrength. In his country ſuch a man is more treaſure, than all its revenues: more glory than all its achievements. In his country ſuch a man is heaven's gift—the beſt of national diſtinctions—a kind of guardian angel. His name is a hoſt. His renown is at once the envy, and the dread, of every foe. His inhabitance is dignity and defence. So long, as ſhe retains him, his country FEELS HERSELF GREAT. How awful, then, the event, which ta •• s him from her. It is like the withdrawal of light, when a cloud paſſes over the earth, whoſe portentous gloom fills every one with diſmay. His exit is felt by his country in every member; and mournful are her aſpect, and thoughts. A ſolemn knell moans through the bereaved land. Gaiety ſtops, to muſe on the ſad tidings. Induſtry pauſes, to wipe away a tear. The wiſe, with anxious ſorrow, preſage the conſequences. And the matron, with pious patriotiſm, tells her little ones, who is dead. The ſorrowing fathers of the land aſſemble. Upon one object they are all intent—how they may beſt honor the departed hero. While thus they ſeek to ſooth the public grief, even calumny ceaſes from her rudeneſs; huſht by the ſolemnity of general mourning. Religion, ſympathiſing, ſanctifies the affliction. The nation pays its funeral tributes to the worthy. And long, long, is his country mindful of her loſs. Long, very long, is ſhe ſad, that her "prince and her great man is fallen."

FINALLY, when ſuch a character dies, THE WORLD is affected—the whole family of man mourns. Such great and good men ennoble human nature. In all countries their names are honoured; and their virtues revered. Man, wherever he is, will admire ſuch conſpicuous and uncommon worth. He ſees a dignity, imparted by it to his ſpecies, which produces in his boſom a glow of noble emotions.—Congenial greatneſs diſcovers in it a majeſty, beſtowed on eminent ſtations; not borrowed from them; and is excited to an imitation of its peculiar excellencies. The blow, therefore, which takes the virtuous chief and truly great man from earth, is felt by the world. The regret, it occaſions, is not confined to place; but is as extenſive, as human intereſts, and the boſoms of men. Man reſpects greatneſs: and his ſelf-love, as well as philanthrophy, cauſes him to mourn, when the luminaries of his race expire.

SUCH are the properties, which ſhed glory on a prince▪ and form the truly great man. And ſuch his exit from this terreſtial ſcene, its circumſtances, and its effects.

HAVE not your hearts, my friends, diſcerned at every ſtep the lineaments of WASHINGTON?—Have you not anticipated the remark, that all the solid glory of a prince, and every property of the truly great man, exiſted in that finiſhed character?—I avoided making the application, as we paſſed; leſt your admiration of ſuch illuſtrious greatneſs might be damped, by the chilling emotions, which come over the mind at every mention of his name. But it was vain. His virtues were too dear to you not to have been inſtantly recognized. Your liſtening griefs quick felt, and told, that in the qualities and exit of eminent greatneſs I deſcribed your departed hero. Yes—what was ſaid, was in all parts applicable to him—I ſee him in the field, in the council, in the temple, in his dignified retirement, and at death, diſplaying every virtue, which can adorn the ſoldier, the ſtateſman, the citizen, and the chriſtian. But, while we triumph in the thought, that it was reſerved for our country, at this late age of the world, to produce THE MAN, who ſhould exhibit in his character AN ASSEMBLAGE OF ALL HUMAN EXCELLENCIES, the blood retreats cold to the heart, and the ſpirits faulter, at the recollection, that now—he is no more! No more ſhall our country conſole herſelf under every proſpect, that ſhe has in one man enough to render her more eminent, than the nations of the earth—No more "ſhall his name prove a rampart, and the knowledge that he exiſts a bulwark, againſt the ſecret and open enemies of his country's peace." PRESIDENT ADAMS's speech at his first inauguration to the presidency of the United States. —No more ſhall all earthly powers fear and reſpect our land, becauſe HE dwells here; and court our alliance to be related to him—No more ſhall the old and the young feel a pride in being his cotemporaries; and point to beams, retained by THE PATRIOT MOUNT, Mount Vernon in Virginia,—the residence of Washington. when the glory of their country is low—He is gone from our admiration! We think Heaven's Council has called him home. The noble chief is buried from our ſight—And the memory of the just is blessed.

SOLEMN to annual regret be the day, on which he expired. Sacred be the reflection, which marks in his exit the tranſitorineſs of all human greatneſs. Humble, and entire, be our reſignation to the will of the all-wiſe Diſpoſer of events.—Let us honor the memory of the departed great man in the way, which he would approve. This is by imitating his virtues; and by uſing his example to animate the ſons of our land in the path, which he purſued.—Yes, thou Illuſtrious ſpirit, each parent in the empire, thou didſt found, ſhall teach his babes, and bid them in future times teach theirs, that they are deſcended from a noble civil Father, who loved the glory of his country; and, while he ſought it in heroic deeds, forgat not the excellence of virtue nor the holineſs of religion.—Ye fathers, who hear me, ye confirm this declaration—Ye American mothers, I but ſpeak your intentions. If the ſouls of the departed have cognizance of things below the ſkies, the glorified Chief ſhall enjoy a reward of his labor for his country's welfare, in beholding his work and virtues continued, to her praiſe, by the imitating gratitude of far diſtant deſcendants. Thus ſhall his NAME be uſeful to his country for ages to come.—Thus may each individual ſanctify the ſorrows of his land. Thus may ſucceſſive generations ſooth the wound, which cannot be healed:—'till grief ſhall be loſt in that sublime veneration, which Hiſtory will exact of poſterity, FOR THE MEMORIES OF THE GREAT AND THE GOOD, till the globe, they ennobled, is wrapt in ruin.

ALMIGHTY and immortal God, whoſe days are without end, and whoſe judgments are irreproachable, look down from heaven, we humbly beſeech thee, upon a mourning land, and behold the ſorrows of the people, whom thou haſt afflicted. In thy wiſdom thou haſt ſeen fit to take from our Country the man, whom thou didſt give for her glory and defence. The excellent of her counſellors is fallen; and the valiant of her hoſts is no more. Verily for this our hearts are pained; and our anguiſh, O God, is exceedingly great. What ſhall we ſay? Where ſhall we go? How ſhall we humble ourſelves under thy heavy hand? Thou art teaching us, that we may not put our trust in princes, nor in the best of the sons of men, for their breath goeth forth of their nostrils, and then all their thoughts perish. Thou art teaching us, that the good and the great, though they be called gods, must die like men; and making us feel, how fallacious are the hopes of man. We do to day call to our remembrance a chief, dear to his country as her beſt poſſeſſion, a noble, diſtinguiſhed above the rulers of the earth, now laid in the duſt by thy awful providence, and vaniſhed like a bliſsful viſion of the night. While we bend and weep under thy irreverſible decree, ſuffer us to deprecate the conſequences, which anticipation fears from this event. When it is told in Gath, let not the Philistines rejoice. When it is published in the streets of Askelon, let not the children of the uncircumcised triumph.—In our councils let thy Spirit be inſtead of him, whom thou haſt taken away. And, when thou bringeſt the terror of battle upon our land, wilt not thou, O God, go forth with our hosts? We ſubmit to thy will; commending our country unto thee, and all her Intereſts. Thou knoweſt, Lord, the ſecrets of our hearts, ſhut not thy merciful ears to our prayers. Shew her servants thy work, and their children thy glory: and the glorious majesty of the Lord our God be upon her: prosper thou the work of their hands upon her; O prosper thou their handy work. And now, O God, we beſeech thee to look down upon us, thy unworthy ſervants, and aſſiſt us in the work and ſervice, in which we are engaged. Grant, that in our homage to our departed hero, no improper ſorrows may diſgrace us as chriſtians; but in all our works, begun, continued, and ended, in thee, may we glorify thy holy name; and finally, by thy mercy obtain everlaſting life, through Jeſus Chriſt, our Lord, who taught and commended us, when we pray to ſay,

Our Father, who art in heaven, &c.