Whose everlasting purposes embrace
All accidents, converting them to good.

His funeral and burial, Mr. Speaker, will never be forgotten by those
who witnessed it. The autumn sun was fast sinking behind the bright
curtain of the west, bathing "the mellow autumn fields" of Old Virginia
with its purple hues. Untrumpeted by official authority, scores of
friends from city, town, village, farm, and cabin gathered at
Ravensworth to pay the last sad honor to their beloved friend. White and
colored, rich and poor, high and low, soldiers, citizens, and statesmen,
all were there.

His body was borne from the house to the ivy-clad family graveyard by
the sturdy yeomanry of the neighborhood. In the presence of that vast
throng, with uncovered heads, his comrades, who had followed him on many
a hard-fought battlefield, performed the last sad rites, and with their
own hands filled his grave and planted upon it the "immortelles" of
their affection and devotion. Faces that never blanched amid the storm
of battle paled; hearts that never quailed in the presence of an enemy
broke in the presence of the last enemy of us all, and the silent,
pitiless tear which fell from the eye was hidden by the lengthening
shadows of the evening, which were fast gathering round the scene.

Beloved friend, farewell and hail!
Removed from sight, yet not afar,
Still through this earthly twilight veil
Thou beamest down, a friendly star.

The prophet's blessing comes to thee,
The crown he holds to view is thine;