And then, after the British and Egyptian flags had been run up to the roof of the Palace, and a Royal Salute had been fired, a little group of clergymen stepped forward. They represented all parts of the Church, for soldiers of all creeds wished to take part in Gordon’s ‘funeral.’ Then, while solemn minute-guns were fired, a Presbyterian minister read the seventeenth Psalm, which tells how God’s people, whenever or however they die, will behold His ‘Face in righteousness,’ and how they will be ‘satisfied’ when they ‘awake in His likeness.’ Then an English clergyman said the Lord’s Prayer, and an old Roman Catholic Priest, with snow-white hair, said a memorial prayer for Gordon and those who had fallen with him. Then the Scottish pipers wailed out a dirge, and the dark Egyptian band played Gordon’s favourite hymn, ‘Abide with Me.’ After that the soldiers were dismissed from their ranks, and were at liberty to wander up and down, and everybody, down to the youngest bugler, had a glad feeling in his heart, that, although they did not know the exact spot where General Gordon’s bones were resting, they had done their best, after fourteen years, to give him Christian burial. There are many more memorials here of men about whom we could tell the most interesting stories, had we only the time. Here is a monument to Sir John Moore, who was killed at Corunna; and who, as doubtless you have learned at school, was ‘buried darkly at dead of night,’ before the defeated English army took to their boats. And here is one to Sir John Howard, the great prison reformer. See, he carries a key in his hand, to show us how he unlocked the prison doors, and brought help and comfort to the wretched inmates, far more hopeless and neglected in his day than they are in ours. And here is a representation of a Bishop blessing little black children. That is Bishop Heber, first Bishop of Calcutta, who wrote a great many hymns, some of which I am sure you know--‘Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty,’ ‘From Greenland’s icy mountains,’ and ‘Brightest and best of the sons of the morning.’ Here is a beautiful memorial--a bronze angel stooping to lift the figure of a wounded yet crowned warrior. Let us read the inscription under it, for it tells of forty-three thousand men, sons of the Empire, who flocked from our Colonies--from Australia, India, Ceylon, New Zealand, and South Africa--to help us to fight against the Boers, and who ‘Gave their Lives for the Motherland.’ Near by is a great window, representing our Lord healing the sick, which was placed there as a thanksgiving for the recovery of our King from a very dangerous illness when he was Prince of Wales.