On the evening before his death, the family sang for him verses from his favorite hymn, “Christ Is Risen”, which he called “Pass over Jordan”, and also from “How Firm a Foundation”. After the singing he said so that all could hear, “The peace of God which passeth all understanding be with you all—all!” Toward the end he inquired of his son Richard, “Are my feet growing cold? Do I drag my anchors?” Upon receiving an affirmative answer, he said, “All’s well”. About fifteen minutes before he died, his wife and daughters were requested by him to leave the room, and he was left with his two sons and two sons-in-law. At 12.40 P.M., on Saturday, February 1, 1873, his life came to a close. The body lay in state in the hall of the Library of Virginia Military Institute from four o’clock in the afternoon of Monday until Wednesday. The gallery round the hall was festooned with black, a large anchor and a cross of evergreens being placed at alternate angles; while the columns were draped spirally. The wall was covered with maps constructed under Maury’s supervision, and on opposite sides of the gallery were placed two heavily draped flags, the one being that of his native state Virginia, and the other that of his adopted state Tennessee. In the center of the hall rested the bier, bearing his body, with his breast covered with the foreign orders that had been conferred upon him, and with a gentle smile on his face. Near the bier stood a large globe bearing this appropriate inscription: “The whole world is mourning for Maury”. A funeral service was held in the hall on Wednesday about noon, by the Reverend William Pendleton, D. D. of Grace Church, after which the coffin, attended by the cadet battalion and the faculty of Virginia Military Institute and the professors and students of Washington and Lee University[26] and the citizens of Lexington, was conveyed to the Gilham vault in the city cemetery, just opposite the tomb of “Stonewall” Jackson. This, however, was only a temporary resting-place. When, shortly before his death, his wife had requested of Maury that she be permitted to bury him in Richmond, he had replied, “Very well, my dear; then let my body remain here until the spring, and when you take me through the Goshen Pass you must pluck the rhododendrons and the mountain-ivy and lay them upon me”. “Home, bear me home, at last”, he said, “And lay me where your dead are lying; But not while skies are overspread, And mournful wintry winds are sighing! Wait till the royal march of spring Carpets the mountain fastness over— Till chattering birds are on the wing, And buzzing bees are in the clover. Wait till the laurel bursts its buds, And creeping ivy flings its graces About the lichened rocks—and floods Of sunshine fill the shady places.