Classic Poem

In your own bright California, along this golden slope,
Is set by bounteous Providence each emblem of our hope;
The giant trees, the placid sea, the pure and virgin snow,
And golden fruits unrivaled that in your gardens grow.

Yes, this is like the Palestine upon whose soil I've trod,
Where man first learned his brother-man, first learned his father God;
The same bright fruits, the seasons, and the same pacific sea,
Bring back from Judah's storied hills best memories to me.

Your mountains call from history that grand, heroic time
When David's son, the Mason-king, reared up a wall sublime;
When gold in countless measure by the willing hand was spent,
And Ophir to Jerusalem her wealth of treasure lent.

Your sea recalls that " utmost sea " of which the Prophet wrote,
That bore upon its billows such a cedar-laden flote,
And Parian stone and porphyry that by the skillful hand,
Assumed exquisite symmetry to answer God's command.

But most of all, most admirable, most memorable to me,
These cross-hilt swords and banners high of Knightly imagery;
The soldiers of E MMANUEL , the Templars strong and rare, —
Yes, these recall the holiest thoughts that stirred my spirit there.

Sir Knights, I've stood within the cave where first H E saw the light
Whose Name inspires, in Heaven and earth, the gallant Templar Knight;
I've bowed with head uncovered, bowed with bent and willing knee,
Beside the spot that drank H IS blood, the hateful Calvary.

I've followed Jesus, step by step, all through the Holy Land,
And here , said I, H E healed the sick, and here the withered hand,
Here brought the clamorous blind to sight, here cursed the barren tree,
Here fed the starving multitude along the stormy sea.

I've sat where the great Preacher sat when breathing words of love,
And read, in solemn silence, what H E said of things above.
Never in all my life, Sir Knights, stood Jesus Christ so nigh,
As in that land where Hiram taught Freemasons how to die.

Therefore, though in this withered arm is spent the manly force,
Nor spear nor falchion can I wield, nor guide the fiery horse,
Yet with an unchanged soul I gaze upon this Blazonry,
And lend a gladsome voice to yours, and join your battle cry.

Beauseant, Beauseant , 'twas uttered on that dark, ensanguined field
Of Hattin, where the Knights went down with shivered spear and shield;
" God wills it, " Dieu le veut , and this, Sir Knights, shall be our cry
When in H IS own good time it is appointed us to die.

Then hail, dear Templar Knights, all hail! your wartare is of God,
And naught but what's celestial has the service of your sword;
If Charity, and Gentleness, and Chastity inspire
The wartare of the Templar Knight, — this is the Christian fire.

And when you sheathe the cross-hilt sword, and lay the helmet down,
May the C OMMANDER wreathe your brows with the immortal crown;
In the Asylum where H E waits, may each the M ASTER view,
And in eternal peace enjoy the wages that are due!