The Poetry Corner

The Master's Song.

By George Pope Morris

Written for the freemasons of St. John's Lodge No. 1, New York. Members of an order Ancient as the earth; All within our border Realize its worth. Genial is the greeting That awaits us there, On the level meeting, Parting on the square. Like the workmen olden, Who our craft designed, We the precept golden Ever bear in mind. Masons never falter, We each other know, As around the altar Hand in hand we go; Loud hosannas singing To our Source above, And heart-offerings bringing To the God of Love. Like the workmen olden, Who our craft designed, We the precept golden Ever bear in mind. There's a mystic beauty In our working plan, Teaching man his duty To his fellow man: As a band of brothers, Ever just and true, Do we unto others As we'd have them do. Like the workmen olden, Who our craft designed, We the precept golden Ever bear in mind.