Anarchy's Exalted Victim: My God and Methodist Episcopal Church

On the coffin were the national colors, on top of which lay a wreath of American Beauty Roses and one of white roses. The face of the President wore a look of perfect peacefulness and was not greatly emaciated, though a sallow hue had succeeded its usual pallor. At the right of the coffin, near its foot, stood the new President of the nation, while near by were the Cabinet officials and prominent citizens of Buffalo.

Rain had begun to fall heavily outside, but, despite this, the citizens of Buffalo and visitors to the Exposition swept in thousands through the hall, stopping to gaze in sorrow on the honored face, and passing gravely on. Between 1:30 and 10:30 of that day from 75,000 to 100,000 men, women and children passed in sadness by. Then the casket was closed, the gates were locked, and a guard of honor stood on duty through the night.

At early dawn of Monday, the body was taken to the funeral train, and started on its long journey to the nation's Capital. Up over the Alleghanies, down into the broad valley of the Susquehanna, on and on to the marble city on Potomac's shores sped the swift crape-covered train, through a long line of bareheaded and sorrowing people, who collected in thronging multitudes in every city, and gathered in thin lines at hamlet and roadside throughout the extended route. Everywhere signs of mourning were displayed and the grief of the people seemed genuine and deep. A half million of people gazed on the funeral car as it swept past.

Washington reached, the coffin was borne to the White House, escorted by soldiers and sailors and witnessed by a multitude that filled every inch of the spacious Pennsylvania avenue. It was deposited in the East Room of the executive mansion, where a guard of honor watched it through the night.

The last sad services at the nation's Capital took place on Tuesday, the 17th. The funeral casket, on a black-carved hearse, drawn by six coal-black horses, passed down the avenue towards the Capitol, followed by a procession that included high dignitaries of State, members of Congress and representatives of foreign nations, with military and civic organizations in numbers.

As the coffin was borne into the rotunda of the Capitol the band played the late President's favorite hymn, "Nearer, My God, to Thee," while every head in the vast throng was bared, and tears dimmed thousands of eyes.

The ceremonies in the Capitol were simple and dignified. There was no display of pomp or splendor, but the greatest in the land paid their tributes of respect to the dead ruler of the nation, the new President chief among them, and with him all the members of President McKinley's Cabinet.

Prayers were spoken, and the two hymns which the President had most loved, "Lead, Kindly Light," and "Nearer, My God, to Thee," were sweetly sung; the funeral address being next delivered by Bishop Edward G. Andrews, of the Methodist Episcopal Church, who had come from Ohio to speak these last words over the remains of his lifelong friend and parishioner. The services over, the waiting thousands filed through the Capitol, though, as at Buffalo, drenching rain fell at intervals during the ceremony.

As evening fell a new funeral train began its long, sad journey, from Washington to the President's home and final resting place at Canton, Ohio. During this journey as during the former one thousands lined the road to gaze on the passing car of death, all night long and till noon Wednesday, when the train reached its goal.

The whole country round seemed waiting to receive it, and stood in reverent silence as the coffin was borne to the Court House, where until evening the people of President McKinley's home city passed in sorrow by his remains. In the evening the coffin was borne to the dead ruler's late residence. Here it remained until Thursday afternoon, the time fixed for the last sad rites.

The services were held in the Methodist Church which Mr. McKinley, as plain citizen and as President, had so often attended. President Roosevelt and his Cabinet occupied seats near the central aisle, and many of the dignitaries of the nation were present. The services began with prayer and music, followed by an eulogy from Rev. Dr. Manchester, the pastor and friend of the late President. The singing of the hymn, "Nearer, My God, to Thee," closed the services.

On leaving the church the remains were received by the escort of troops, and the column of march was resumed, passing between two solid lines of humanity to West Lawn Cemetery, where the body was to be deposited in a funeral vault:

Bishop Joyce, of Minneapolis, slowly but reverently read the burial service of the Methodist Episcopal Church. As his voice ceased there was a brief silence, and then eight bugles sounded out the notes of the soldier's last call -- "taps." The notes of the bugles died slowly away, and as the honored body was consigned to the vault there were few dry eyes among those who stood around.

Thus ended the solemn ceremony. The martyred President had gone to his long home. Doubtless in many hearts the bugle sounds were echoed by his deep-meaning last words: "It is God's way! His will be done!"