xlvi INTRODUCTION

time in the Abbey. The service at Coniston began with a hymn written for the occasion by Canon Rawnsley:-

“‘Knowest thou that the Lord will take away thy master from thy head to-day? And he said, Yea, I know it.’

“The prophets cease from out the land,

The counsellors are gone,

The lips to kindle and command

Are silent one by one.

Our master taken from our head,

In sorrow, here we pray-

Lord, teach us in his steps to tread;

Be Thou our guide and stay,

Till all the righteousness he loved,

The sympathy he sought,

The truth by deed and word he proved,

Be made our daily thought.

He gave us eyes, for we were blind;

He bade us know and hear;

By him the wonder of the mind

Of God, on earth was clear.

We knew the travail of his soul,

We thank Thee for his rest;

Lord, lead us upward to his goal-

The pure, the true, the blest!”

“There was no black about his burying,” says Mr. Collingwood, “except what we wore for our own sorrow; it was remembered how he hated black, so much that he would even have his mother’s coffin painted blue.” The coffin was covered with a pall¹ given by the Ruskin Linen Industry of Keswick, lined with bright crimson silk, and embroidered with the motto, “Unto this Last.” Wreaths from all sorts and conditions of friends and admirers-from the Princess Louise to the village tailor-were heaped upon the coffin. Two were especially significant. One was a Wreath of Olive, sent by Watts from the tree in his garden, cut only thrice before-for Tennyson, and Leighton, and Burne-Jones. The other was Mrs. Severn’s cross of Red Roses. The grave is next to that of Miss Susan Beever-the old friend to whom he had written a few years before, “Why should we wear black for the guests of God?”²

¹ Now in the Ruskin Museum at Coniston.

² See the letter, October 26, 1874 (from Hortus Inclusus), in Vol. XXXVII.

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