A moment of deep civility amid the brutality and bitterness We watched as the coffin was switched to a gun carriage at St Clement Danes, and then moved down Fleet Street, where the British newspaper industry was once congregated. Unlike some of her successors, she never pandered to newspaper editors or political journalists: she knew her mind much too well, and respected the dignity of her great office too much. Our press is now scattered to all parts; but for her courage before the unions, it would scarcely exist at all. As the cortege made its way towards Paternoster Square, we mourners inside St Paul's noted that the crowds on the side of the road were five deep. Then, as the great west doors of the cathedral were flung open, bringing a bracing blast of cold air, we heard cheers from outside. The Queen and Duke of Edinburgh had arrived. They walked very slowly, with immense dignity, down the aisle. Then more cheers. And it was with surprise, and a great deal of pleasure, that we realised the cheers were for Maggie's coffin. The service itself was simple. In structure, it was identical to any modest Anglican funeral, though with some points of interest. The anthem was from the Brahms Requiem, an interesting choice in light of her notorious and (to many) poorly judged hostility to the German leadership. Then the Bishop of London gave the sermon. He faced an enormously difficult and sensitive task. On the one hand, he had to deliver an address appropriate to a great state occasion, one that would present Margaret Thatcher as a great national figure, rather than a purely partisan political one. On the other hand, he had to defend Margaret Thatcher as a Conservative politician. The Bishop deserves sympathy: he had not chosen his predicament, it was thrust upon him by the decision to break with precedent and invite the Queen to a funeral that had much of the panoply of a state event. It was simply impossible to reconcile these two conflicting objectives. Bishop Chartres ended up making what many will regard as a partisan speech. Having announced that he would steer clear of political dispute, he promptly delivered a very political sermon indeed. He chose to defend the former prime minister against the charge made by the Left that she was a selfish individualist who repudiated the links that bind men and women to their community. The Bishop unfashionably argued that the roots of Mrs Thatcher's political beliefs could be found in the teaching of Jesus in the Scriptures about compassion, freedom, honesty and truth. I personally agree with these arguments, and think that no prime minister since Gladstone has acted as directly as Margaret Thatcher on these beliefs, or discussed them in public so naturally or with so little embarrassment. But the fact remains that many Christians do not accept this and (judging by the letter from 43 bishops to The Sunday Telegraph three weeks ago in which they warned that children and families would pay the price for the Government's welfare reforms) nor do many church leaders. Last week, I wrote on these pages of my dismay at the decision to award Lady Thatcher what was, in effect, a state funeral, and protested, in particular, at the presence of the Queen. And I still think it would have been better if Lady Thatcher had been laid to rest at a private funeral. It has raised so many troubling questions. Now that she has been given such a ceremony, what happens the next time a former prime minister dies? How are we going to decide whether he or she was a great leader and therefore deserving of the kind of grand occasion we saw? What do we do, for instance, about Tony Blair, who also won three elections? Some believe he was a great figure. Others violently disagree. These decisions are always subjective. In truth, state occasions only work when they can unite the nation. Nevertheless, it was a day to commemorate a very great woman and an elemental force on the British public stage. There was not one person in St Paul's, or in Britain today, who has not been profoundly shaped by Margaret Thatcher's superlative life. She was a magnificent, indomitable, courageous and splendid woman and I felt profoundly honoured to be present at her final send-off.