This evergreen, which once marked the temporary resting-place of the illustrious dead, is an emblem of our faith in the immortality of the soul. By it we are reminded that we have an immortal part within us, that shall survive the grave, and which shall never, never, never die. By it we are admonished that, though, like our brother whose remains lie before us, we shall soon be clothed in the habiliments of death, and deposited in the silent tomb, yet, through our belief in the mercy of God, we may confidently hope that our souls will bloom in eternal spring. This, too, I deposit in the grave.
The brethren then move in procession round the place of interment, and severally drop the sprig of evergreen into the grave, during which the following may be sung:
Funeral Dirge.
Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound!
Mine ears attend the cry:
"Ye living men, come view the ground
Where you must shortly lie.
"Princes! this clay must be your bed,
In spite of all your towers;
The tall, the wise, the reverend head,
Must lie as low as ours."
Great God! Is this our certain doom?
And are we still secure?
Still walking downward to the tomb,
And yet prepared no more?
Grant us the power of quick'ning grace,
To fit our souls to fly;
Then, when we drop this dying flesh,
We'll rise above the sky.
Or the following:
Pleyel's Hymn.
Solemn strikes the fun'ral chime,
Notes of our departing time;
As we journey here below
Through a pilgrimage of woe.