Bear her softly, Brothers, softly,
Slowly tread and lightly move;
Little children walk beside her,
Weeping for the one they love,
And they cannot walk so fast.
Hurry not, support her gently, —
This sad march is mother's last.
Are these raindrops falling on us,
Tears of angels , dropped from Heaven?
Well they may be; never sorrow,
Tribute more sincere, was given!
Softly, Brothers; — let them fall;
— Blest the dead the rain rains on, — —
Angels weep o'er mother's pall.
Softly, — softly, — 'tis the graveyard,
And her husband's grave is here;
Right it was her grave to open,
By the man she loved so dear;
Now her widowhood is past, —
All her yearnings now are over, —
Let the lovers meet at last!
Slowly give her form interment,
Mother unto mother earth;
Death, — thy victory was never
Over more transcendent worth!
Never one more pure than she;
O, how can we, Brothers, spare her,
From this world of misery?
Lightly lay the sods above her,
Hiding from her children's eyes;
Ah, those hapless sons and daughters, —
Pity them above the skies!
All this world cannot afford
Unto them a friend so faithful;
None so faithful save the Lord!
Brothers, yet a moment longer, —
Hand in hand about her grave;
She, in fullness of our virtues,
Mason's eulogy shall have.
Ere we leave this sacred heap,
Join in tender reminiscence, —
Then in silent parting, weep.
That influence that warms the earth
In spring time, waking trunks and roots,
Moved on her spirit, giving birth
To Heaven's fairest flowers and fruits;
She bloomed in spiritual grace,
In Christian light, and love, and song;
Her fruitage was to cheer and bless
The sorrowing, as she passed along.
Her pilgrimage was made with God,
His seal divine was on her brow;
His truth inspired her every word —
That truth which Masons chiefly know.
Each precept in our emblems taught
Was in her life exemplified;
Freemason's works in her were wrought
And in Freemason's faith she died.
Therefore we make those ancient signs,
Which, living, she so deftly made.
Through them a mystic glory shines
Like that which gilt the Saviour's head,
In them we read of conquering faith,
And hope as free and bright as hers,
Which made immortal in their death
Five of the Old World's worshipers.
Like Adah , she expired in light —
Like Ruth , adored the widow's friend —
Like Esther , chose the crown most bright —
Like Martha , did in meekness bend —
Like blest Electa bore her cross
As one who scorns its weight and pain,
Laid down life's richest gifts as dross,
Believing she would rise again.
Fairest of earthly daughters, she
Among the angelic hosts doth fly;
Ten thousand forms around her be,
And all together mount the sky.
Lovely their forms; their joyous tongues
Go thrilling up to Heaven's gate,
Where cherub-shouts and seraph-songs,
Their ransomed sister's spirit wait.
Silently, silently turn away,
Patiently yield to death the sway,
Hopefully leave her in the tomb,
Until her Lord shall come.
Slowly tread and lightly move;
Little children walk beside her,
Weeping for the one they love,
And they cannot walk so fast.
Hurry not, support her gently, —
This sad march is mother's last.
Are these raindrops falling on us,
Tears of angels , dropped from Heaven?
Well they may be; never sorrow,
Tribute more sincere, was given!
Softly, Brothers; — let them fall;
— Blest the dead the rain rains on, — —
Angels weep o'er mother's pall.
Softly, — softly, — 'tis the graveyard,
And her husband's grave is here;
Right it was her grave to open,
By the man she loved so dear;
Now her widowhood is past, —
All her yearnings now are over, —
Let the lovers meet at last!
Slowly give her form interment,
Mother unto mother earth;
Death, — thy victory was never
Over more transcendent worth!
Never one more pure than she;
O, how can we, Brothers, spare her,
From this world of misery?
Lightly lay the sods above her,
Hiding from her children's eyes;
Ah, those hapless sons and daughters, —
Pity them above the skies!
All this world cannot afford
Unto them a friend so faithful;
None so faithful save the Lord!
Brothers, yet a moment longer, —
Hand in hand about her grave;
She, in fullness of our virtues,
Mason's eulogy shall have.
Ere we leave this sacred heap,
Join in tender reminiscence, —
Then in silent parting, weep.
That influence that warms the earth
In spring time, waking trunks and roots,
Moved on her spirit, giving birth
To Heaven's fairest flowers and fruits;
She bloomed in spiritual grace,
In Christian light, and love, and song;
Her fruitage was to cheer and bless
The sorrowing, as she passed along.
Her pilgrimage was made with God,
His seal divine was on her brow;
His truth inspired her every word —
That truth which Masons chiefly know.
Each precept in our emblems taught
Was in her life exemplified;
Freemason's works in her were wrought
And in Freemason's faith she died.
Therefore we make those ancient signs,
Which, living, she so deftly made.
Through them a mystic glory shines
Like that which gilt the Saviour's head,
In them we read of conquering faith,
And hope as free and bright as hers,
Which made immortal in their death
Five of the Old World's worshipers.
Like Adah , she expired in light —
Like Ruth , adored the widow's friend —
Like Esther , chose the crown most bright —
Like Martha , did in meekness bend —
Like blest Electa bore her cross
As one who scorns its weight and pain,
Laid down life's richest gifts as dross,
Believing she would rise again.
Fairest of earthly daughters, she
Among the angelic hosts doth fly;
Ten thousand forms around her be,
And all together mount the sky.
Lovely their forms; their joyous tongues
Go thrilling up to Heaven's gate,
Where cherub-shouts and seraph-songs,
Their ransomed sister's spirit wait.
Silently, silently turn away,
Patiently yield to death the sway,
Hopefully leave her in the tomb,
Until her Lord shall come.