Classic Poem

Oh, when before the Lodge we stand,
Its walls hung round with mystic lines,
And for the loving, listening band
Draw truth and light from those designs;—
See ON THE RIGHT the Open Word,
Which lendeth grace to every thought!
See ON THE LEFT the Mason's lord,
'Tis chosen well, the sacred spot.

For there our youthful minds received
The earliest impress of that light,
Whose perfect radiance, believed,
Will lead the soul to heavenly height.
Around the spot there clusters much
Of Masons' lore; and dull were he
Who, standing in the light of such,
Cannot unveil our Mystery.

If in instruction's voice there come
A tone of hatred; if, alas,
The love and music of our home
Be changed to discord and disgrace,—
'Tis that the speaker has forgot
The solemn words first uttered there,—
His feet have left the sacred spot,
His heart and tongue no wisdom bear.

But when the soul is kindled high
With love, such love as angels know—
And when the tongue trips lightly by
The truth and love our emblems show;—
When round the Lodge, the eye and cheek
Prove how congenial is the theme,
No further need the speaker seek—
Good spirits stand and speak with him!