Poetry

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Taken from a most ancient writing, which long antedates the Christian bible.

Let the temple of the Lord be built the seventh great angel cried. Then to their places in the North, the South, the West and the East, seven great sons of God moved with measured pace and took their seats. The work of the building was begun.

The doors were closed and tyled. The lights shone dim. The temple walls could not be seen. The seven were silent and their forms were veiled. The time had not arrived for the breaking forth of Light. The word could not be uttered. Only a silence reigned. Between the seven forms, the work went on. A silent call went forth from each to each. Yet still the temple door stayed shut.... As time went on without the temple doors the sound of life was heard. The door was opened and the door was shut. Each time it opened, a lesser son of God was entered and the power within the temple grew. Each time the light waxed stronger. Thus passed from North to South, from West to East and in the centre, at the heart, found light, found understanding and the power to work. They entered, through the door. They passed before the seven. They raised the temple veil and entered light. The temple grew in beauty. Its lines, its walls, its decoration and its breadth and depth and height slowly emerged into the light of day. Out from the East, a word went forth: Open the door to all sons of men, who come from all darkened valleys of the land, and let them seek the temple of the Lord. Give them the light. Unveil the inner shrine, and, through the work of all the craftsmen of the Lord, extend the temple of the Lord, and thus irradiate the world. Sound forth the word creative, and raise the dead to life!

Thus shall the temple of the light be carried from the heaven to earth. Thus shall its walls be raised upon the plains of earth. Thus shall the lights reveal and nurture all the dreams of men.

Then shall the Master in the East awaken those who are asleep. Then shall the Warden in the West test out and try all seekers after light. Then shall the Warden in the South instruct and aid the blind. Then shall the gate into the North remain wide open, for there the unseen Master stands, with welcoming hand and understanding heart to lead the candidate unto the East, where the true Light shines forth....

'But why this opening of the temple doors?' demand the greater seven, the seated three. 'Because the time is ripe; the craftsmen are prepared. God has created in the Light. His sons can now create. There is naught else to do'. 'So mote it be', came forth the answer from the greater seven, the seated three. 'The work may now proceed. Let all sons of earth go forth to labour!'

A Mason And A Man

My Brother, Masonry means much more,

Than the wearing of a pin,

Or carrying a paid up dues receipt,

So the Lodge will let you in,

You may wear an emblem on your coat,

from your finger flash a ring,

But if your not sincere at heart

This doesn't mean a thing.

It's merely an outward sign, to show

The world that you belong,

To this fraternal Brotherhood,

That teaches right from wrong.

What really counts lies buried deep,

Within the human breast,

Til Masonic teaching brings it out,

And puts it to the test.

If you can Practice out of Lodge

The things you learn within,

Be just and upright with yourself,

And to your fellow man.

Console a brother when he's sick,

Or assist him when in need,

Without a thought of personal gain,

For any act or deed.

Walk and act in such a way,

That the world without can see,

That none but the best,

can meet the test,

Laid down by Masonry.

Always live up to your trust

And do the best you can,

Then you can proudly tell the world

you're a Mason and a Man.

The Mother-Lodge

by Rudyard Kipling

There was Rundle, Station Master,

An' Beazeley of the Rail,

An' 'Ackman, Commissariat,

An' Donkin' o' the Jail;

An' Blake, Conductor-Sargent,

Our Master twice was 'e,

With 'im that kept the Europe-shop,

Old Framjee Eduljee.

Outside -- "Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!"

Inside -- "Brother", an' it doesn't do no 'arm.

We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square,

An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there!

We'd Bola Nath, Accountant,

An' Saul the Aden Jew,

An' Din Mohammed, draughtsman

Of the Survey Office too;

There was Babu Chuckerbutty,

An' Amir Singh the Sikh,

An' Castro from the fittin'-sheds,

The Roman Catholick!

We 'adn't good regalia,

An' our Lodge was old an' bare,

But we knew the Ancient Landmarks,

An' we kep' 'em to a hair;

An' lookin' on it backwards

It often strikes me thus,

There ain't such things as infidels,

Excep', per'aps, it's us.

For monthly, after Labour,

We'd all sit down and smoke

(We dursn't give no banquits,

Lest a Brother's caste were broke),

An' man on man got talkin'

Religion an' the rest,

An' every man comparin'

Of the God 'e knew the best.

So man on man got talkin',

An' not a Brother stirred

Till mornin' waked the parrots

An' that dam' brain-fever-bird;

We'd say 'twas 'ighly curious,

An' we'd all ride 'ome to bed,

With Mo'ammed, God, an' Shiva

Changin' pickets in our 'ead.

Full oft on Guv'ment service

This rovin' foot 'ath pressed,

An' bore fraternal greetin's

To the Lodges east an' west,

Accordin' as commanded

From Kohat to Singapore,

But I wish that I might see them

In my Mother-Lodge once more!

I wish that I might see them,

My Brethren black an' brown,

With the trichies smellin' pleasant

An' the hog-darn passin' down;

An' the old khansamah snorin'

On the bottle-khana floor,

Like a Master in good standing

With my Mother-Lodge once more!

Outside -- "Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!"

Inside -- "Brother", an' it doesn't do no 'arm.

We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square,

An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there!