Strange, beautiful and pathetic is the picture given to our thoughts of the dead Majesty of England,-white and still, lying in her snowy death-robes with the first snowdrops of the year and lilies around her, and the golden Cross shining above her-that emblem of the Christian Faith which, in its simplest form, the Queen followed fervently without any faltering doubt or fear. The words of one of her favourite hymns were the daily echo of her own heart’s trust in the Divine.