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When placed before the throne,
Beyond the Orient sun,
Where the Supreme Grand Master sits as judge,
What record shall we show
Of all our works below,
We who have labored in the earthly Lodge?
Through life's hard travel come, —
It was our earthly doom,
Through sin and sorrow suffering many a wrong,
When bowed in death at last,
And 'neath the trumpet's blast,
We've risen with th' innumerable throng
What answer shall we make?
Oh, brothers, for His sake,
Who died on Calvary to redeem us all,
Let's ponder while we may,
The questions of that day,
And have the answer ready for the call.
And this our answer be: —
We strove to follow Thee,
In teaching truth and lessening human woe
And scanty though our deed,
We ask Thee, Lord, to heed
Not what we've done, but what we tried to do.
Brothers, how brief is time!
But there's a world sublime
Eternal, blest, ineffably sincere
And in this mystic place,
We can with surety trace,
His gracious purpose who has placed us here.
Then pledge anew each heart,
Ye, of the Royal Art,
To labor strongly and in truth to love
And with the closing week,
Our eager hands will take
The royal wages waiting us above!
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