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Fragrance of a Good Deed

Rob Morris

On hallowed ground those walls are reared
That roof incloses in
A spot to Masonry endeared,
To Sion's Mount akin
Since Sion's Temple is bereft
And Judah mourns his God,
No holier site on earth is left,
Than this our feet have trod.

For here, inspired by truest faith,
Relief a Brother gave,
Upheld a wanderer unto death
And blessed him with a grave
Aye, with a grave whose portals closed
To that majestic song,
Which has to the fraternal host
Brought deathless hopes so long.

The Eye Divine approved the deed,
'Tis graven as with steel
And when the noble act we read
This fond desire we feel,
That all our mystic work and word
Thus modeled well may be,
And so the Temple of our God
Rise fast and gloriously!

Commentary

Many years since, a poor sojourner through the wilds of Texas paused at a farm house on the lonely banks of the Brazos, to die. The owner, a Freemason, discovered the Masonic claims of his guest not too late to make the mystic tie available. All the consolations of brotherly sympathy and attendance were freely bestowed upon him, and when these could avail the pilgrim no longer, his remains were tenderly consigned to maternal earth, the generous planter reading the Masonic service and covering in the precious dust, alone!
Long years afterward, and when a populous village had sprung up upon the river banks, a Masonic Lodge was established there. The hall was built, and the Mount Moriah upon which it was erected was the green knoll beneath which the stranger's bones are moldering! Morton Lodge, No. 72, at Richmond, Texas, yet (1884) stands to perpetuate the fragrance of a good deed.
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