Caxton's Book: A Collection of Essays, Poems, Tales, and Sketches.
Page 23
[Decoration]
XXI.
_MASONRY._
Oh, sacred spirit of Masonic love, Offspring of Heaven, the angels' bond above, Guardian of peace and every social tie, How deep the sources of thy fountains lie! How wide the realms that 'neath thy wings expand, Embracing every clime, encircling every land!
Beneath the aurora of the Polar skies, Where Greenland's everlasting glaciers rise, The Lodge mysterious lifts its snow-built dome, And points the brother to a sunnier home; Where Nilus slays the sacrificial kid, Beneath the shadow of her pyramid, Where magian suns unclasp the gaping ground, And far Australia's golden sands abound; Where breakers thunder on the coral strand, To guard the gates of Kamehameha's land; Wherever man, in lambskin garb arrayed, Strikes in defense of innocence betrayed; Lifts the broad shield of charity to all, And bends in anguish o'er a brother's fall; Where the bright symbol of Masonic truth, Alike for high and low, for age or youth, Flames like yon sun at tropic midday's call, And opes the universal eye on all! What though in secret all your alms be done, Your foes all vanquished and your trophies won? What though a veil be o'er your Lodges thrown, And brother only be to brother known?
In secret, God built up the rolling world; In secret, morning's banners are unfurled; In secret, spreads the leaf, unfolds the flower, Revolve the spheres, and speeds the passing hour. The day is noise, confusion, strife, turmoil, Struggles for bread, and sweat beneath the toil. The night is silence--progress without jars, The rest of mortals and the march of stars! The day for work to toiling man was given; But night, to lead his erring steps to Heaven. All hail! ye brethren of the mystic tie! Who feed the hungry, heed the orphan's cry; Who clothe the naked, dry the widow's tear, Befriend the exile, bear the stranger's bier; Stand round the bedside when the fluttering soul Bursts her clay bonds and parteth for her goal; God speed you in the noble path you tread, Friends of the living, mourners o'er the dead.
May all your actions, measured on the square, Be just and righteous, merciful and fair; Your thoughts flow pure, in modesty of mind, Along the equal level of mankind; Your words be troweled to truth's perfect tone, Your fame be chiseled in unblemished stone, Your hearts be modeled on the plummet's line, Your faith be guided by the Book divine; And when at last the gavel's beat above Calls you from labor to the feast of love, May mighty Boaz, pillar'd at that gate Which seraphs tyle and where archangels wait, Unloose the bandage from your dazzled eyes, Spell out the _Password_ to Arch-Royal skies; Upon your bosom set the signet steel, Help's sign disclose, and Friendship's grip reveal; Place in your grasp the soul's unerring rod, And light you to the Temple of your God!