Word: casketful
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...pale sun of a late afternoon, a carriage of Sweden's royal household came to a stop before a weathered granite tombstone inscribed HJALMAR HAMMARSKJOLD FAMILY GRAVE. Six pallbearers in tall top hats and long black coats lifted down a mahogany casket, lowered it silently into an open grave. An eddy of wind blew a few leaves into the grave. "Sleep you now in the garden of heaven," said Lutheran Archbishop Gunnar Hultgren. "Rest in peace, Dag Hammarskjold...
...been a long way home: 5,000 miles from Ndola. the small Rhodesian town where the Secretary-General had been bound to negotiate peace in Katanga. When the body arrived in Stockholm aboard an American DC-yC, 250,000 mourners gathered for a torchlight procession. At Uppsala the closed casket, nearly buried in flowers, was placed in the 13th century Lutheran cathedral, where 15,000 townfolk came to say their farewells...
Sweden's 81-year-old Archbishop Emeritus Erling Eidem, who buried Hammarskjold's statesman father eight years ago, conducted the service with quavering hand. Opera Singer Elisabeth Soderstrom sang I Know That My Redeemer Liveth, and the Lutheran choir Work, for the Night Is Coming. Near the casket was a wreath of daffodils and two red roses. Sent by Hammarskjold's family, it bore a one-word inscription...
...slight body, in a mahogany casket covered with the blue-and-yellow flag of Sweden, rested amid a sea of fresh flowers in St. Andrews' United Church of Ndola. Four sentries stood at attention, as those who could reach the remote outpost paid their last respects. Among them was the man Hammarskjold had flown to Ndola to see: Katanga's stubborn President Moise Tshombe, whose troops were battling U.N. forces less than 100 miles away. Dressed in a grey suit and somber tie, Tshombe walked in briskly, placed a wreath of white lilies on the coffin, stood motionless...
...paste my casket with certificates for charities, and professorial chair endowments, and the hundred-and-one do-gooder agencies ghoulishly squeezing through the door of the funeral parlor for a handout. If you are going to be big-hearted ... do it on your own time . . . and don't wait for death to open up your heart to the needy and the sick. I believe flowers are proper and right at the time of death, beautifully symbolic of the brief human life, grown by God and thereby so precious to Him, even at its fading. So, no matter what others...