text:  How many glad hearts in the olden time have rejoiced in these songs of praise--how many sorrowful ones sighed out their complaints in those plaintive notes that steal sadly yet sweetly on the ear--hearts that now cold in death are laid to rest around that sacred fane within whose walls they had so often swelled with emotion! Tell us not of neatly trimmed "cemeteries " redolent of staring sunflowers priggish shrubs and all the modern coxcombry of the tomb; with nicely swept gravel walks lest the mourner should get "wet on's feet " and vaults numbered like warehouses where "parties may bring their own minister " and be buried with any form or no form if they like it better