On Saturday, April 18, 1874, the remains of the great traveler were committed to their resting-place near the centre of the nave of Westminster Abbey. Many old friends of Livingstone came to be present, and many of his admirers, who could not but avail themselves of the opportunity to pay a last tribute of respect to his memory. The Abbey was crowded in every part from which the spectacle might be seen. The pall-bearers were Mr. H.M. Stanley, Jacob Wainwright, Sir T. Steele, Dr. Kirk, Mr. W.F. Webb, Rev. Horace Waller, Mr. Oswell, and Mr. E.D. Young. Two of these, Mr. Waller and Dr. Kirk, along with Dr. Stewart, who was also present, had assisted twelve years before at the funeral of Mrs. Livingstone at Shupanga. Dr. Moffat, too, was there, full of sorrowful admiration. Amid a service which was emphatically impressive throughout, the simple words of the hymn, sung to the tune of Tallis, were peculiarly touching:
"O God of Bethel! by whose hand Thy people still are fed, Who through this weary pilgrimage Hast all our fathers led."
The black slab that now marks the resting-place of Livingstone bears this inscription:
BROUGHT BY FAITHFUL HANDS OVER LAND AND SEA,
BORN MARCH 19, 1813, AT BLANTYRE, LANARKSHIRE.
DIED MAY 4,[79] 1873, AT CHITAMBO'S VILLAGE, ILALA.
[Footnote 79: In the _Last Journals_ the date is 1st May; on the stone, 4th May. The attendants could not quite determine the day.]
For thirty years his life was spent in an unwearied effort to evangelize the native races, to explore the undiscovered secrets, and abolish the desolating slave-trade of Central Africa, and where, with his last words he wrote: "All I can say in my solitude is, may Heaven's rich blessing come down on every one--American, English, Turk-- who will help to heal this open sore of the world."
Along the right border of the stone are the words:
TANTUS AMOR VERI, NIHIL EST QUOD NOSCERE MALIM QUAM FLUVII CAUSAS PER SÆCULA TANTA LATEHTES.
And along the left border:
OTHER SHEEP I HAVE WHICH ARE NOT OF THIS FOLD, THEM ALSO I MUST BRING, AND THEY SHALL HEAR MY VOICE.
On the 25th June, 1868, not far from the northern border of that lake Bangweolo on whose southern shore he passed away, Dr. Livingstone came on a grave in a forest. He says of it:
"It was a little rounded mound, as if the occupant sat in it in the usual native way; it was strewed over with flour, and a number of the large blue beads put on it; a little path showed that it had visitors. This is the sort of grave I should prefer: to be in the still, still forest, and no hand ever disturb my bones. The graves at home always seemed to me to be miserable, especially those in the cold, damp clay, and without elbow-room; but I have nothing to do but wait till He who is over all decides where I have to lay me down and die. Poor Mary lies on Shupanga brae, 'and beeks fornent the sun.'"
"He who is over all" decreed that while his heart should lie in a leafy forest, in such a spot as he loved, his bones should repose in a great Christian temple, where many, day by day, as they read his name, would recall his noble Christian life, and feel how like he was to Him of whom it is written: "The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings to the meek: He hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound; to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all that mourn; to appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord; that He might be glorified."