Classic Poem

Hark, from the lofty dome,
Hark, from the Mason's home
Comes a sweet song;
Words full of mystery,
Virtue and charity,
Tuned unto melody,
Rise from the throng.

Joy, the Mason's year is ended,
Freres of St. John!
Joys, which every month attended,
Pains with brightest pleasures blended,
Ended and gone;
Crafts of the temple, to your after throng,
Children of light, upraise the festive song.

Come, oh ye newly made,
Late to our altar led,
Hasten, oh youth;
Gone is the gloomy night,
Sweet is the mystic light,
Broke on the dazzled sight,
Glowing with truth.

Age, with your locks of snow,
Time's burden bending low,
Fathers, oh come;
Welcome the veteran here —
With every added year,
Dearer and yet more dear,
To Masons' home.

Master, your toil is done;
Brethren, the prize is won;
Hail the new year;
Pledge every soul again,
Strengthen the mystic chain,
Long may the Lodge remain
Without a peer.