Classic Poem

Where types are all fulfilled —
Where mystic shades are real —
Where aching hands and hearts are stilled,
And death has set his seal —
In that bright land called Heaven ,
Dear Friend, we'll meet once more!
The token in thy parting given,
Points to a Heavenly shore .

'Tis this , our signs have taught —
Our symbols old and true;
'Tis this upon our work is wrought,
Which every frere can view;
From the first line we traced,
On the foundation walls,
To that bright stone , the last, the best,
The glory of our halls.

Oh, what a land of joy
Hast thou beheld, my Friend!
Oh, what ineffable employ
Thy faithful heart has gained!
Thy Brother, weary, worn,
Longs for the same bright dome,
Where, all the week's hard service done,
He'll have thy welcome home.