The souls of the just are in the hands of God; no torment shall touch them. -- From the Book of Wisdom, as quoted by the Rev. John Ditenhafer, principal celebrant at the Mass of the Resurrection for George R. "Buzz" Westfall.

At 9:24 a.m. on Friday. I'm arriving at the Church of the Immacolata, easily one of the most beautiful houses of worship ever in the simplicity of its loveliness.

Slightly ahead of my car is a white Cadillac. I watch as the passenger door opens and an elderly gentleman, with some difficulty, steps out. An awe-struck smile crosses my face as I watch the uneasy step, the uncertain gait, and recognize the stooped figure of Stan "The Man" Musial.

Backward the milestones run to 40 years ago this very autumn, when The Man played his last game at old Sportsman's Park, hitting safely in his last at-bat. The eloquent tribute of then-commissioner of baseball Ford Frick echoes as I feel the throat-catching sense of excitement generated by The Man: "Here stands baseball's perfect warrior, ... baseball's perfect knight."

Buzz, I knew, was somewhere smiling. Buzz would have been 19 that autumn of 1963, probably a sophomore at St. Louis U. How proud he would have been that The Man thought enough of him to make the effort to join that huge crowd taking Holy Communion at the last service for Buzz Westfall.

Buzz's many contributions to St. Louis County, as indeed to the entire region, are much remarked upon. Deservedly so.

Still, what stands out in the memory aren't the many contributions of a public man in his public role, but rather the positive talent for friendship of this good and decent man. My guess is that it was this talent, together with the trademark Westfall loyalty, that made it important for The Man to be there Friday morning.

Like Mark Westfall and Judge John Ross, longtime friend and campaign treasurer Mike Flynn was eloquent on the subject in his touching tribute at the funeral Mass. An equally eloquent Father John Ditenhafer gently instructed us in matters spiritual. But beyond that, Ditenhafer was positively hilarious, offering mourners just the right measure of touching humor amid the crushing sadness bearing down on one and all.

A mutual friend, a well-known Democrat, got us together over dinner back in the winter of 2001 within days of my becoming Senate president pro tem. Partisan differences seemed never to intrude. Buzz and I instantly became friends. Soon enough, Buzz was eager to introduce me to his lovely wife, Laurie. Buzz would occasionally call, needing something from my office. He almost always got it. It was near impossible to say no to my friend Buzz.

Occasionally, Buzz and I would find ourselves on opposite sides of a partisan issue or contest. Still, such differences never even came close to blurring our friendship. Credit him.

For the next 30-something months whenever I would see him anywhere, that sly smile would cross his face and Buzz would say, "Peter, when are we gonna have dinner?" Or "Hey, let's go to a ballgame soon." Like others of his friends who probably thought there would be plenty of time, I knew not how soon those opportunities would be taken from us. Hence, the tears. And the countless joyous memories.

Buzz and his family aren't the only ones who were proud that unforgettable morning of his funeral Mass. All of us who knew him were proud of the privilege, and of his splendid family, and of how he lived his life, ennobling all who knew him. Well done, my friend.

Just as certain we can be that he heard, "Well done, good and faithful servant. Enter into my Kingdom."

Peter Kinder is assistant to the chairman of Rust Communications and president pro tem of the Missouri Senate.