Masonic Poetry G–M

Goddess of Purity,
Spotless and rare;
Emblem of Charity
Unsullied, fair;
Symbol of Meekness ––
Radiant, bright,
′Minding the Brethren
Of realms of Light ––
Strong in the knowledge
Virtuous might.

Symbol of Chastity,
Spirit of Bliss,
Coming to cheer us,
Through the abyss,
Token of faithfulness ––
Be thou our guide;
Emblem of Hopefulness ––
Keep by our side;
Help us and lead us o′er
Every dark tide!

Good Fellowship
By Wilbur D. Nesbit

Ho, Brother, it′s the handclasp and the good word and the smile
That does the most and helps the most to make the world worth while!
It′s all of us together, or it′s only you and I ––
A ringing song of friendship, and the heart beats high;
A ringing song of friendship, and a word or two of cheer!
Then all the world is gladder and the bending shy is clear!

It′s you and I together –– and we′re brothers one and all
When even thourgh good felowship we hear the subtle call,
Whenever in the ruck of things we feel the helping hand
or see the deeper glow that none but we may understand ––
Then all the world is good to us and all is worth the while;
Ho, brother, it′s the handclasp and the good word and the smile!

HANDS ACROSS THE SEA
by Lawrence Greenleaf

Here′s Hands across the sea! good sirs, here′s Hands across the sea!
To every isle and continent where′er our brethren be;
For we are one in sympathy, as we are one in name;
The self same tools are bright with use and mystic lights aflame;
The same designs on trestle board by which our tasks are wrought
Their symbol truths impressed on heart and centered in our thought.
For that which counts for greatest good is through the lives of each
Who by their acts exemplify the principles we teach.

The world′s great heart is throbbing with the spirit of unrest;
We hear the cry that welleth up from peoples long oppressed;
We see the rule of mammon and the grasping hand of greed,
The travesties of justice and the toiler′s bitter need,
The striving for the mastery, the ever present fear,
With nation watching nation, and the war clouds hovering near,
And the question ever riseth as portentous signs we trace,
What will the final outcome be, and what the saving grace?
And Masonry makes answer with its never changing plan––
The Fatherhood of God. the Brotherhood of Man!

Though aeons upon aeons break upon the shores of time,
This is the grand fulfillment, and the prophesy sublime;
This is the work of trestle board for brethren everywhere,
For never was there greater need for level, plumb and square,
For trowel with cement of love to strengthen and unite
The human race in brotherhood, and usher in the Light!
To all who aid this glorious work, wherever they may be,
Here′s to the Craft in homeland, and here′s Hands across the sea!

He Is A Man –– My Brother
By Henry Nehemiah Dodge

What man soe′er I chance to see ––
Amazing thought –– is kin to me,
And if a man, my brother.

What though in silken raiment fine
His form be clad, while naked mine;
He is a man, my brother.

What though with flashing chariot wheel
He spurn my cry, nor pity feel;
He is a man, my brother.

What though he sit in regal state
And for an empire legislate,
He is a man, my brother.

What though he grovel at my feet,
Spurned by the rabble of the street;
He is a man, my brother.

What though his hand with crime be red,
His heart a stone, his conscience dead;
He is a man, my brother.

And when we pass upon the street,
It is my brother that I meet;
Alas, alas, my brother!

Though low his life, and black his heart,
There is a nobler, deathless part
Within this man, my brother.

The soul which this frail clay enfolds
The image of his Maker holds ––
That makes this man my brother.

Though dimly there that image shine,
It marks the soul a thing divine,
A child of God, my brother.

For him the spotless Son of God
The Perfect man, our pathway trod,
To show Himself our Brother.

Nor walks the earth so vile a wretch
But down to him that love doth stretch,
As to an only brother.

Though deep the abyss with darkness lower,
′Tis but the measure of His power
Who thence will raise my brother.

A Savior to the uttermost,
He will not see His brother lost,
Nigh ruined, yet his brother.

THE HIDDEN MEANING
by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

A Mason′s ways are
A type of existence,
And his persistence
Is as the days are
Of men in the world.

The future hides in it
Good hap or sorrow,
We pass through it––
Naught there abides in it
Daunting us––onward.

And silent, before us,
Veiled the dark portal,
Goal of all mortal;
Stars silent rest over us,
Graves under us are silent.

But heard are the voices––
Voice of the sages
Of the world and the ages––
Choose well, your choice is
Brief, but yet endless.

Here eyes do regard you
In eternity′s stillness,
Here is all fullness,
Ye brave, to reward you,
Work, and despair not.

HOW GOOD AND HOW PLEASANT
Giles Fonda Yates

Behold, how pleasant and how good
For brothers such as we
In this united Brotherhood
To dwell in unity.
‘Tis like the oil on Aaron′s head
Which to his feet distills;
Like Hermon′s dew so richly shed
On Zion′s sacred hills.

For there the Lord of light and love
A blessing sent with power,
O, may we all this blessing prove,
Even life for evermore.
On friendship′s altar, rising here,
Our hands now plighted be,
To live in love, with hearts sincere,
In peace and unity.

I AM
Silas H. Shepherd

I am a living soul;
My body is but dust
And only useful as a tool
To do the work at hand.

I am a child of God,
And needs must feel
obedience to His laws,
And carry out His Plan.

I am a brother of mankind,
And owe to them my Love;
Else His first law is broken
By mine guilt.

I am the master of my fate,
For as a living soul,
There is no limitation
To that which I may do.

I am Freemasonry
by Ray V. Denslow

I was born in antiquity, in the ancient days when men first dreamed of God.
I have been tried through the ages, and found true.
The crossroads of the world bear the imprint of my feet, and the cathedrals of all nations mark the skill of my hands.
I strive for beauty and for symmetry.
In my heart is wisdom and strength and courage for those who ask.
Upon my alters is the Book of Holy Writ, and my prayers are to the One Omnipotent God.
My sons work and pray together, without rank or discord, in the public mart and in the inner chamber.
By signs and symbols I teach the lessons of life and of death
and the relationship of man with God and of man with man.
My arms are widespread to receive those of lawful age and good report who seek me of their own free will.
I accept them and teach them to use my tools in the building of men, and thereafter, find direction in their own quest for perfection so much desired and so difficult to attain.
I lift up the fallen and shelter the sick.
I hark to the orphan′s cry, the widow′s tears, the pain of the old and destitute.
I am not church, nor party, nor school, yet my sons bear a full share of responsibility to God, to country, to neighbor and themselves.
They are freemen, tenacious of their liberties and alert to lurking danger.
At the end I commit them as each one undertakes the journey beyond the vale into the glory of everlasting life.
I ponder the sand within the glass and think how small is a single life in the eternal universe.
Always have I taught immortaility, and even as I raise men from darkness into light, I am a way of life.
I am Freemasonry.

I SAT IN LODGE WITH YOU
Wilbur D Nesbit

There is a saying filled with cheer,
Which calls a man to fellowship.
It means as much for him to hear
As lies within the brother grip.
Nay, more! It opens wide the way
To friendliness sincere and true;
There are no strangers when you say
To me: I sat in lodge with you.

When that is said, then I am known;
There is no questioning nor doubt;
I need not walk my path alone
Nor from my fellows be shut out.
Those words hold all of brotherhood
And help me face the world anew––
There′s something deep and rich and good
In this: I sat in lodge with you.

Though in far lands one needs must roam
By sea and shore and hill and plain,
Those words bring him a touch of home
And lighten tasks that seem in vain.
Men′s faces are no longer strange
But seem as those he always knew
When some one brings the joyous change
With this: I sat in lodge with you.

So you, my brother, now and then
Have often put me in your debt
By showing forth to other men
That you your friends do not forget.
When all the world seems gray and cold
And I am weary, worn and blue
Then comes this golden thought I hold––
You said: I sat in lodge with you.

When to the last great Lodge you fare
My prayer is that I may be
One of your friends who wait you there
Intent your smiling face to see.
We, with the warder at the gate,
Will have a pleasant task to do;
We′ll call, though you come soon or late:
Come in! We sat in lodge with you!

JUBAL AND TUBAL CAIN
Rudyard Kipling
From THE ROYAL ARCH MASON Winter 1964

Jubal sang of the wrath of God
And the curse of thistle and thorn,
But Tubal got him a pointed rod
And scrambled the earth for corn.
Old – old as that early mould,
Young as the sprouting grain–
Yearly green is the strife between

Jubal and Tubal Cain!

Jubal sang of the new found sea,
And the love that its waves divide:
But Tubal hollowed a fallen tree
And passed to the farther side.
Black – black as the hurricane wrack,
Salt as the under main
Bitter and cold is the hate they hold –

Jubal and Tubal Cain!

Jubal sang of the golden years,
When wars and wounds shall cease;
But Tubal fashioned the hand–flung spears
And showed his neighbors peace.
New – new as the nine–point–two,
Older than Lamech′s slain
Roaring and loud is the feud avowed, ′twixt

Jubal and Tubal Cain!

Jubal sang of the cliffs that bar
And the peaks that none may crown
But Tubal clambered by jut and scar,
And there he builded a town.
High – high as the snowsheds lie,
Low as the culverts drain
Wherever they be, they can never agree–

Jubal and Tubal Cain!

JUST A LITTLE LODGE ROOM
George B. Staff

Just a little lodge–room,
But a mighty force for good;
With its loyal band of members
Learning more of brotherhood;
Striving, stumbling, but progressing
Down a pathway toward the right;
Just a humble bunch of plain folks,
Reaching, seeking for the light.

Just a quiet little lodge room,
How it stirs the heart and soul
With the thrill of great endeavor
Toward a high and common goal;
With each pledge of faith and courage
To maintain the forward fight,
On the road that leads them onward
Even onward to the light.

LABOR
Silas H. Shepherd

He who acts upon the Square
Will always well with all compare.
The Mason uses tools of love
To build a Temple planned above.
The Gauge he constantly employs
To measure work and limit joys.
The Plumb imbues his soul and heart
With love Divine and sacred art.
The Level guides his daily act
And makes good fellowship a fact.
If we employ these tools each day
A beautiful Temple will be our pay.

The Lambskin
Author Unknown

It is not ornamental, the cost is not great,
There are things far more useful yet truly I state,
That of all my possessions, there′s none to compare
With the white leather apron that all Masons wear.
As a young lad I wondered just what it all meant
When Dad hustled round and so much time was spent
On shaving and dressing and looking just right
Until Mother would say, It′s the Masons tonight.
Then some nights she′d say What makes you go
Away up there tonight in the sleet and the snow
You see the same things every month of the year.
And Dad would reply, Yes I know it my dear.
For years I have seen the same things it is true,
And tho′ they are old, still they seem new,
For the hands that I clasp, and the friends that I greet
Seem a little bit closer each time we meet

Years later I stood at that very same door,
With good men and true, who had entered before.
I kneeled at the altar, and there I was taught
That virtue and honour can never be bought.
That the spotless white lambskin, all Masons revere
If worthily worn grows more precious each year.
That service to others brings blessings untold
That men may be poor, tho′ surrounded by gold.
I learned that true brotherhood flourishes there,
That enmities fade ′neath the compasses and square,
That wealth and position are all thrust aside,
As there on the level men meet and abide.
So, honour the lambskin and may it remain
Forever unblemished and free from all stain,
And when we are called to the great Father′s love,
May we all take our place, in the Grand Lodge above

THE LAMBSKIN APRON
Fay Hempstead

Light and white are its leathern folds;
And a priceless lesson its texture holds.
Symbol it is, as the years increase,
Of the paths that lead through the fields of Peace.
Type it is of the higher sphere,
Where the deeds of the body, ended here,
Shall one by one the by way be,
To pass the gates of Eternity.

Emblem it is of a life intense,
Held aloof from the world of sense
Of the upright walk, and the lofty mind,
Far from the dross of earth inclined.
Sign it is that he who wears Its sweep unsullied, about him bears
That which should be to mind and heart,
A set reminder of his art.

So may it ever bring to thee
The high resolves of purity.
Its spotless field of shining white
Serve to guide thy steps aright:
Thy daily life, in scope and plan,
Be that of the strong and upright man.
And signal shall the honor be
Unto those who wear it worthily.

Receive it thus to symbolize
Its drift, in the life that before thee lies.
Badge as it is of a great degree,
Be it chart and compass unto thee.

Last Night I Knelt Where Hiram Knelt
Author Unknown

Last night I knelt where Hiram knelt
And took an obligation.
Today I′m closer to my God
And I′m a Master Mason.

Tho′ heretofore my fellow men
Seemed each one like the other,
Today I search each one apart′
I′m looking for my Brother.

And, as I feel his friendly grip,
It fills my heart with pride;
I know that while I′m on the square,
That he is on my side.

His footsteps on my errand go
If I should such require;
His prayers will plead in my behalf
If I should so desire.

My words are safe within his breast
As though within my own;
His hand forever at my back
To help me safely home.

Good counsel whispers in my ear
And warns of any danger;
By Square and Compass, Brother now!
Who once would call me stranger.

I might have lived a moral life
And risen to distinctions
Without my brother′s helping hand
And fellowship of Masons.

But God, who knows how hard it is
To resist life′s temptations,
Knows why I knelt where Hiram knelt
And took that obligation.

Let There Be Light!
By Brother Cummings

Brother, kneel before the altar,
In silence grave.
Show no weakness. Do not falter
Like cowan knave.
Honest brethren stand around you,
With heart and hand,
Ready to encourage, aid you,
A noble band.
Here you need not fear deception ––
All are true ––
Every brother here assembled
Knelt like you.
With throbbing hearts they silent listen
To your voice,
As you tell in earnest whisper,
Your free choice.
Gently loose the new made brother
From his cord,
He is bound by stronger fetters,
On God′s Word.
Hearken to the Master′s language:
Pray for Light,
Responsive voices chant the echo:
Let there be Light.
Welcome, brother, to our household,
You are Free;
May it ever prove a blessing
Unto thee.

LET US HONOR GEORGE WASHINGTON
Silas H. Shepherd
Let us honor a Brother who squared every deed
By the purest of motive his conscience decreed.
His claim to our gratitude surely was earned
By service to every great truth he had learned.
In youth as Apprentice, he studied the needs
Of life and of conduct. and all moral creeds.

He applied them in manhood to country and state;
To policies powerful and ideals great.
He lived for the good of a people, a race––
His memory cherished––no foe can we trace.
He conquered in war and in peace was devoid
Of the strife of party we seldom avoid.

In age he grew wise in the ways that bring peace
And from strife and conflict the people release.
Let us honor his virtues and fortitude rare!
Let us follow the leader and with him compare!
He has laid a design both perfect and true;
It remains for all Masons to carry it through.

The Level and the Square
Rob Morris

We meet upon the level and we part upon the square
These words have precious meaning and are practiced everywhere
Come let us contemplate them, they are worthy of a thought
From the ancient times of Masonry these symbols have been taught
We meet upon the level, every country, sect and creed
The rich man from his mansion, the poor man from the field
For wealth is not considered within our outer door
And we all meet on the level upon the checkered floor.

We act upon the Plumb the Junior Warden states
We walk upright throughout our lives, we seek the pearly gates
The All–seeing Eye that reads our hearts doth bear us witness true
That we shall try to honor God and give each man his due
We part upon the square as all good Masons do
We mingle with the multitude a faithful band and true
So the brotherhood of Masonry from every corner come
To meet upon the level and act upon the plumb.

There′s a world where all are equal we′re coming to it fast
We shall meet upon the level there when the days on earth are past
We shall stand before the altar and our Master will be there
To try the blocks we offer with his own unerring square
We shall meet upon the level there but never thence depart
There′s a Mansion … ′tis all ready for each trusting, faithful heart
There′s a Mansion and a welcome and a multitude is there
Who have met upon the level and been tried upon the square.

Let us meet upon the level then while these earthly ties we share
And just hope we′re there to answer when the roll is called up there
As we travel through our lifespan time aids us prepare
To gather up our working tools and part upon the square
So remember all our teachings, that bright fraternal chain
We part upon the square below to meet in heaven again
These words have precious meaning and are practiced everywhere
We meet upon the level and we part upon the square.

THE LIFE STRUCTURE
PGM Charles E. Whelan

Upon the stones of yesterday are built the walls today;
Today shall be the yesterday when comes tomorrow′s sun.
Will now the plumb line show thy wall from rectitude doth sway?
Doth virtue′s square disclose thy work was yester poorly done?

Art thou ashamed that what thy life hath built, by level proved,
Reveals divergence from the plan thy Maker gave to thee?
Build thou thy structure yet again, by earnest purpose moved,
And by thy failures profit well, till stone to stone agree.

This moment and this hour are now within thy hands to mold
And shape into the temple for the dwelling of thy soul.
God grant that when tomorrow comes, and finds thy story told,
A fabric rare and beautiful may yet thy heart console.

Its walls four squared by character, strong grounded, broad and deep,
To bear the weight of duty and withstand the storms of ill
Its roof a shelter to thy brother when the shadows sweep;
The floors bright paved with kindly deeds, mosaic of good will.

The windows sending forth a light to break the midnight gloom
That `round some soul starved traveler hangs heavy with despair
A couch of love and sympathy within thy heart′s guest room;
And perfume of good cheer and hope to permeate the air.

Light
William Mercer Wilson

Let there be light. Jehovah said,
And primal darkness heard and fled;
Then, as the waters from the land;
He parted with almighty hand;
Light ridged the mountain chain with gold;
Light through the vales in glory rolled;
Light silvered ocean, lake and stream;
Light made the pall–like vapors gleam;
Light shone the forest vistas through;
Light gave the sky it′s burning blue;
Light fell in life–awakening showers;
On torpid leaves and sleeping flowers;
And all the universe waxed bright
Robed in it′s makers effluence–light.
There is a darkness of the mind;
As thick as dark, as undefined;
Ere God had said, Let there be light.
But as creations morning burst;
On chaos, and the gloom dispersed;
So does the Day star from on high.
Light to the darkened soul supply;
As that which wrapped the world in night;
So does God′s grace, that ray divine;
On the beseeching sinner shine;
Dispelling from the soul despair;
And shedding floods of glory there;
Oh, when there′s doubt and gloom within;
Black fruits of unrepented sin;
Search thou this book, and searching pray;
So shall thy sin be washed away;
So shall a beam illuminate thy night;
From him who said, Let there be light.

THE LODGE ROOM OVER SIMPKIN′S STORE
Lawrence Greenleaf

The plainest lodge room in the land was over Simpkin′s store,
Where Friendship Lodge had met each month for fifty years or more.
When o′er the earth the moon, full orbed, had cast her brightest beam
The brethren came from miles around on horseback and in team,
And Ah! what hearty grasp of hand, what welcome met them there,
As mingling with the waiting groups they slowly mount the stair
Exchanging fragmentary news or prophecies of crop
Until they reach the Tiler′s room and current topics drop
To turn their thoughts to nobler themes they cherish and adore
And which were heard on meeting night up over Simpkin′s store.

To city eyes, a cheerless room, long usage had defaced
The tell tale line of lath and beam on wall and ceiling traced.
The light from oil fed lamps was dim and yellow in its hue
The carpet once could pattern boast, though now ‘twas lost to view;
The altar and the pedestals that marked the stations three
The gate post pillars topped with balls, the rude carved letter G,
Were village joiner′s clumsy work, with many things beside
Where beauty′s lines were all effaced and ornament denied.
There could be left no lingering doubt, if doubt there was before,
The plainest lodge room in the land was over Simpkin′s store.

While musing thus on outward form the meeting time drew near,
And we had glimpse of inner life through watchful eye and ear.
When Lodge convened at gavel′s sound with officers in place,
We looked for strange, conglomerate work, but could no error trace.
The more we saw, the more we heard, the greater our amaze
To find those country brethren there so skilled in Mason′s ways.
But greater marvels were to come before the night was through,
Where unity was not mere name, but fell on earth like dew,
Where tenets had the mind imbued, and truths rich fruit age bore,
In the plainest lodge room in the land, up over Simpkin′s store.

To hear the record of their acts was music to the ear,
We sing of deeds unwritten which on angel′s scroll appear,
A WIDOW′S CASE––Four helpless ones––Lodge funds were running low––
A dozen brethren sprang to feet and offers were not slow.
Food, raiment, things of needful sort, while one gave loads of wood,
Another, shoes for little ones, for each gave what he could.
Then spake the last: I haven′t things like these to give–– but then,––
Some ready money may help out and he laid down a ten.′
Were brother cast on darkest square upon life′s checkered floor,
A beacon light to reach the white––was over Simpkin′s store.

Like scoffer who remained to pray, impressed by sight and sound,
The faded carpet ´neath our feet was now like holy ground.
The walls that had such dingy look were turned celestial blue,
The ceiling changed to canopy where stars were shining through.
Bright tongues of flame from altar leaped, the G was vivid blaze,
All common things seemed glorified by heaven′s reflected rays.
O! Wondrous transformation wrought through ministry of love––
Behold the LODGE ROOM BEAUTIFUL!––fair type of that above.
The vision fades––the lesson lives––while taught as ne′er before,
In the plainest lodge room in the land––up over Simpkin′s store.

MAN–MAKING
Edwin Markham

We are blind until we see
That in the human plan
Nothing is worth the making if
It does not make the man.

Why build these cities glorious
If man unbuckled goes?
In vain we build the work unless
The builder also grows.

MASONIC SONG
Robert Burns

Ye sons of old Killie, assembled by Willie,
To follow the noble vocation;
Your thrifty old mother has scarce such another
To sit in that honoured station.
I′ve little to say, but only to pray,
As praying′s the ton of your fashion;
A prayer from the muse you well may excuse,
`Tis seldom her favorite passion.

Ye powers who preside o′er the wind and the tide,
Who marked each element′s border,
Who formed this frame with beneficent aim
Whose sovereign statute is order,
Within this dear mansion may wayward contention,
Or withered envy ne′er enter,
May secrecy round be the mystical bound
And brotherly love be the center.

MASONIC TRAINING
Rob Morris

Oh, Ladies, when you bend above
The cradled offspring of your love,
And bless the child whom you would see
A man of truth and constancy,––
Believe there is in Mason′s lore,
A fund of wisdom, beauty, power,
Enriching every soul of man
Who comprehends the mystic plan.

Then train your boy in Mason′s truth;
Lay deep the cornerstone in youth;
Teach him to walk by virtue′s line,
To square his acts by Square Divine;
The cement of true love to spread,
And paths of Scripture truth to tread;
Then will the youth to manhood grow
To honor us and honor you.

The Mason′s Pledge
Brother Robert Morris

Brother, hearken, while I tell you
What we Masons pledged to do,
When, prepared at yonder altar,
We assumed the Mason′s vow!
Foot and knee, breast, hand and cheek ––
Harken while I make them speak!

Foot to foot, on mercy′s errand,
When we hear a brother′s cry,
Hungry, thirsty, barefooted, naked,
With God′s mercy let us fly.
This of all our thoughts the chief,
How to give him quick relief.

Knee to knee, in earnest praying,
None but God to hear or heed,
All our woes and sins confessing,
Let us for each other plead;
By the spirit of our call,
Let us pray for brothers all.

Breast to breast, in sacred casket,
At life′s center let us seal
Every truth to us entrusted,
Nor one holy thing reveal!
What a Mason vows to shield,
Let him die, but never yield.

Hand to back, a brother′s falling,
Look, his burdens are too great.
Stretch the generous hand and hold him
Up before it is too late.
The right arm′s a friendly prop,
Made to hold a brother up.

Cheek to cheek, in timely whisper
When the tempter strives to win,
Urge the brother′s bounden duty,
Show him the approaching sin,
Point to him the deadly snare,
Save him with a brother′s care.

Brother, let us often ponder
What we Masons pledged to do,
When, prepared at yonder altar,
We assumed the Mason′s vow;
Foot and knee, breast, hand and cheek,
Let these oft our duties speak.

THE MASTER′S APRON
Robert Burns

Ther′s mony a badge that′s unco braw;
Wi′ ribbon, lace and tape on;
Let kings an′ princes wear them a′
Gie me the Master′s apron!

The honest craftsman′s apron,
The jolly Freemason′s apron,
Be he at hame, or roam afar,
Before his touch fa′s bolt and bar,
The gates of fortune fly ajar,
´Gin he but wears the apron!

For wealth and honor, pride and power
Are crumbling stanes to base on;
Fraternity suld rule the hour,
And ilka worthy Mason!
Each Free Accepted Mason,
Each Ancient Crafted Mason.

Then, brithers, let a halesome sang
Arise your friendly ranks alang!
Guidwives and bairnies blithely sing
To the ancient badge wi′ the apron string
That is wom by the Master Mason!

The Model Mason
Brother Robert Morris

There′s a fine old Mason in the land, he′s genial, wise and true,
His list of brothers comprehends, dear brothers, me and you;
So warm his heart the snow blast fails to chill his generous blood,
And his hand is like a giant′s when outstretched to man or God; ––
Reproach nor blame, nor any shame, has checked his course or dimmed his fame ––
All honor to his name!

This fine old Mason is but one of a large family:
In every Lodge you′ll find his kin, you′ll find them two or three;
You′ll know them when you see them, for they have their father′s face,
A generous knack of speaking truth and doing good always; ––
Reproach nor blame, nor any shame, has checked their course or dimmed their fame ––
Freemason is their name!

Ah, many an orphan smiles upon the kindred as they pass;
And many a widow′s prayers confess the sympathizing grace;
The Father of this Brotherhood himself is joyed to see
Their works –– they′re numbered all in Heaven, those deeds of charity!
Reproach nor blame, nor any shame, there check their course or dim their fame ––
All honor to their name!

The Mother–Lodge
Rudyard Kipling

There was Rundle, Station Master,
An′ Beazeley of the Rail,
An′ ′Ackman, Commissariat,
An′ Donkin′ o′ the Jail;
An′ Blake, Conductor–Sargent,
Our Master twice was ′e,
With ′im that kept the Europe–shop,
Old Framjee Eduljee.

Outside –– Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!
Inside –– Brother, an′ it doesn′t do no ′arm.
We met upon the Level an′ we parted on the Square,
An′ I was Junior Deacon in my Mother–Lodge out there!

We′d Bola Nath, Accountant,
An′ Saul the Aden Jew,
An′ Din Mohammed, draughtsman
Of the Survey Office too;
There was Babu Chuckerbutty,
An′ Amir Singh the Sikh,
An′ Castro from the fittin′–sheds,
The Roman Catholick!

We ′adn′t good regalia,
An′ our Lodge was old an′ bare,
But we knew the Ancient Landmarks,
An′ we kep′ ′em to a hair;
An′ lookin′ on it backwards
It often strikes me thus,
There ain′t such things as infidels,
Excep′, per′aps, it′s us.

For monthly, after Labour,
We′d all sit down and smoke
(We dursn′t give no banquits,
Lest a Brother′s caste were broke),
An′ man on man got talkin′
Religion an′ the rest,
An′ every man comparin′
Of the God ′e knew the best.

So man on man got talkin′,
An′ not a Brother stirred
Till mornin′ waked the parrots
An′ that dam′ brain–fever–bird;
We′d say ′twas ′ighly curious,
An′ we′d all ride ′ome to bed,
With Mo′ammed, God, an′ Shiva
Changin′ pickets in our ′ead.

Full oft on Guv′ment service
This rovin′ foot ′ath pressed,
An′ bore fraternal greetin′s
To the Lodges east an′ west,
Accordin′ as commanded
From Kohat to Singapore,
But I wish that I might see them
In my Mother–Lodge once more!

I wish that I might see them,
My Brethren black an′ brown,
With the trichies smellin′ pleasant
An′ the hog–darn passin′ down; [Cigar–lighter.]
An′ the old khansamah snorin′ [Butler.]
On the bottle–khana floor, [Pantry.]
Like a Master in good standing
With my Mother–Lodge once more!

My Ballot
Thomas Q. Ellis, Grand Master 1925, Mississippi

I stand at the same sacred altar
Where, prompted by brotherly love,
I vowed solemn vows without falter
Witnessed by Him from above.
As once I knelt there in rev′rence
I stand rev′rently there …
My thoughts have suffered no sev′rence,
As I vowed…so I′ll vote…on the square
If through friendship I favor the seeker
But think him unworthy at heart …
Lest my Lodge by my ballot grow weaker,
Such favor from justice must part.
At the altar where light flooded o′er me,
I′ll betray not the trust that I bear,
I′ll shame not the emblems before me,
But I′ll cast my vote on the square.
Or should he be not to my liking,
But merit by action the trust;
My soul I′ll not perjure by striking
A blow when such a blow be unjust …
But I′ll welcome his step ′cross the border,
I′ll honor the trust that I bear,
I′ll vote for the good of the order
By casting my vote on the square.
Time flies … and ere long my petition
Will be filed in the Grand Lodge above.
I′ll be glad then I tempered such mission
With justice and brotherly love.
"With the measure ye mete" has been spoken
By the Worshipful Master up there …
No promise e′re made has He broken
And He′ll handle my case on the square.

My New–Cut Ashler
Rudyard Kipling

My New–Cut ashlar takes the light
Where crimson–blank the windows flare.
By my own work before the night,
Great Overseer, I make my prayer.

If there be good in that I wrought
Thy Hand compelled it, Master, Thine––
Where I have failed to meet Thy Thought
I know, through Thee, the blame was mine.

The depth and dream of my desire,
The bitter paths wherein I stray––
Thou knowest Who hast made the Fire,
Thou knowest Who hast made the Clay.

Who, lest all thought of Eden fade,
Bring′st Eden to the craftsman′s brain––
Godlike to muse o′er his own Trade
And manlike stand with God again!

One stone the more swings into place
In that dread Temple of Thy worth.
It is enough that, through Thy Grace,
I saw nought common on Thy Earth.

Take not that vision from my ken––
Oh whatsoe′er may spoil or speed.
Help me to need no aid from men

That I may help such men as need

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