Hubert Horatio Humphrey was laid to rest in the frozen earth of Minnesota today in a picturesque cemetery beside Lake Calhoun at the southern edge of Minneapolis.
The senator and former Vice President was interred at 5:25 p.m. (CST) after an elaborate, ecumenical funeral that included tributes from President Carter and Vice President Mondale.
The burial ended three days of ceremonies following Humphrey's death on Friday, at the age of 66, from cancer. His flag-draped coffin had been visited by tens of thousands of mourners, first at the U.S. Capitol, and then, all Sunday night, at the Minnesota state capitol in St. Paul.
His burial took place on a bright but biting day.
The wind whipped powdered snow across the path of Humphrey's hearse. The temperature reached its high point, zero, at 2 p.m., just as the Humphrey funeral cortege arrived at House of Hope Presbyterian Church, a looming gothic building on a broad boulevard in St. Paul.
The Humphrey family stayed briefly in their limousines outside the church waiting for Carter, who flew here for the service and left immediately after.
Waiting in her car, the senator's widow, Muriel, appeared tired and heartbroken. Entering the church, however, she managed a small smile and she maintained her composure throughout the afternoon.
The church, which seats 2,000, was filled with people representing the diverse elements Humphrey touched during his energetic life. There were actors and athletes, feminists and financiers, and a crush of local and national political figures.
Four planeloads of federal officials, including 43 members of the Senate, came from Washington for the service. Former President Nixon, who had flown to Sunday's ceremonies in Washington, did not attend; nor did former President Ford.
The two-hour funeral included music by violinist Isaac Stern, tenor Robert Merrill and Tom Tipton, a spiritual singer from Minneapolis.
The first lesson was read by a rabbi, the second by a Roman Catholic archbishop. Meditations were offered by Dr. Robert Schuller, an evangelist from Los Angeles whose televised sermons Humphrey admired, and by the Rev. Calvin Whitefield Didier, pastor of the House of Hope.
It seemed fitting that a funeral for Humphrey, whose loquacity was legend, ran far behind schedule because of lengthy tributes.
"The last time this congregation had a service this long," the pastor observed, "was when Hubert himself was the speaker."
Didier said that Humphrey had planned his own funeral in his last weeks of his life, setting two conditions: there should be no eulogies, and the service should be open to "the people of the little towns all over Minnesota."
Neither wish was granted.
The big church was so filled with friends and public figures that the pews intended for ordinary folks disappeared.
And both politicians and preachers offered high praise for Humphrey.
Carter related in considerable detail a weekend in the last months of Humphrey's life when the senator and the President visited Camp David, the presidential retreat in Maryland.
In their talks then, Carter said, he came to recognize Humphrey as a representative of "common, ordinary people . . . in our country and all around the world." Mondale, a fellow Minnesotan, who was Humphrey's protege, called the senator "the Pope John of American politics."
He loved people," Mondale went on, "friends and stranger -- if there was such a thing as a stranger to him."
At the end of his remarks, the Vice President repeated the peroration he had offered Sunday in Washington: "He taught us all how to hope and how to love. He taught us how to win and how to lose. He taught us how to live and, finally, he taught us how to die."
After the ceremony the funeral cortege crossed above the ice-packed Mississippi to Lakewood Cemetery, a rolling, wooded expanse in South Minneapolis. The day was dying, and temperatures had dropped well below zero, but hundreds of people lined the 10-mile route from the church to the cemetery.
The afternoon sum glistened on snow-tufted gravestones as the hearse and the mourners drove into the cemgravesite at the foot of a gentle hilletery and stopped at Humphrey's
Brief prayers were offered. A bugler's sad "Taps" echoed in the oaks overlooking the tomb.
Hubert Horatio Humphrey, a son of the prairie who had gone enormously far, was home for good.