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I am! I am!
Are you a Mason? Aye, I am! But stay
The mere profession of its principles,
When unsupported by the daily acts
Of duty it involves, proves false the tale,
And Truth, that attribute divine, the sure
Foundation of Masonic heritage,
Shrinks back appalled at such a mockery,
Which, like the barren fig tree, fair to sight,
Is but the semblance of a fruitful tree.
Faith without works is dead
Profession without practice, dead, also
A man's a Mason only when he strives
To make his practice quadrate with his creed.
What is a Mason?
Symbol of a race,
Grand and historic, 'neath whose steadfast hands
The mighty fabric of the Temple rose,
Until in beauty and strength it stood
Harmoniously proclaiming, God is great!
Though-at the dictum of the power to whom
'Twas raised -overthrown and crumbled into dust,
With not a fragment left to mark the place,
Or tell the tale of its magnificence
The art survives, but not alone
In perishable stone.
Through faith in God,
And hope of immortality, we build
A spiritual temple to His name
Founded on Truth and righteous Charity.
Oh, glorious fellowship! Unshackled by
Mortal interpretation of the word
Vouchsafed by God to man, we seek the Truth
In Love, the refulgent essence of all Truth,
Which is of God alone, and God is Love.
He, then, who takes the compasses in hand
To circumscribe his daily life, will find
The center in that Love to God expressed
In deeds of charity and love to men.
Remember, if you don't see the Ashlar "A", it's not authentic.
By Brothers, For Brothers & always For the good of the craft...
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