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The Chamber of Imagery
Hail, workmen of the mystic labor, hail!
To-night let all things that have language speak,
Here in the image chamber of the Craft,
Where pure instruction beams on every hand
Above — the spangled Arch, whose diamond rays
Twinkle sweet welcome on our road to Heaven
Around — emblems of truth eternal, grand,
Quaint old imaginings of by-gone days
Before — oh, blest eternally of God,
Yon Book, whose secret is undying hope
Beneath — the earth, our mother, whence we sprung,
And in whose bosom we shall sleep at last
All these inspire and move the Poet's heart
To claim a welcome, Brothers, in your Band.
And let them speak those Pillars that look down
In brazen symbolisms on the scene
That golden G, that names the sacred Name
The Sheaf that marks His beauty and His love
The Gavel ringing in submissive ears
The Level, Plumb, and Square, on faithful breasts
The Gauge, wise monitor of fleeting time, —
Of time, whose sands no mortal may recall
The Trowel, with its soothing tale of peace
Each has its voice, and let it speak to-night.
Craftsmen, we build but for a day,
Unless His precepts we obey!
How oft we see within our land
A structure reared upon the sand!
Its walls magnificently rise, —
Its turrets pierce the very skies, —
Crowds through its portals eager press, —
Beauty and rank its altars grace, —
And then the tempest falls, 'tis gone
From tower top to cornerstone!
Craftsmen, this lesson heed, and keep, —
Lay your foundations wide and deep!
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