Then all who had made the covenant from their hearts rose and sang together:–
Just as I am Thou dost receive,
Dost welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve,
Because Thy promise I believe,
O Lamb of God, I come!
It was just such an ending to the wonderful service as our Army Mother would have chosen had she been still on earth with us.
The next morning was dry and bright. ’I shall ask God to give you a fine day for my funeral, Emma, so that you mayn’t take cold,’ our Army Mother had said, for she was ever thoughtful for others; and her prayer was answered, for though the white mist crept up from the river to the Embankment, where the procession was forming up, there was no rain nor wind.
Tens of thousands of our dear Soldiers would gladly have sacrificed a day’s work in order to follow in the funeral procession of one they so dearly loved; but, so as not to gather too large a crowd, only Officers were allowed in the march, which passed through countless throngs of people from International Headquarters to Abney Park Cemetery, a distance of about five miles.
All along the route the crowds stood in dense masses, and roofs, windows, and every nook and corner were packed with human beings. Nothing had been seen like it, said the police, since the Duke of Wellington’s funeral, forty years before.
It was a wonderful march. I wish you could have seen it! Sometimes it seemed as if every one was weeping; and when the open hearse, with its plain oak coffin, crowned by The Army bonnet and well-worn Bible, passed, all heads were bared, all voices hushed, and tears filled all eyes.
The General, standing alone in his open carriage all along the long, sad way, must have felt that he had the people’s sympathy and love with him in his grief, for scores of heartfelt ‘God bless you’s!’ came from lips that are unused to such words.
And at last the yellow evening sun shone out as the great procession reached the gates of Abney Park Cemetery and wound towards the open grave.