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Lets Go to Lodge Tonight

by Unknown

Say, Son, let's go to Lodge tonight;
We haven't been for years.
Let's don our little apron white
And sit among the peers.
I feel a kind of longing, Boy,
to climb up those old stairs;
I know we'd get a thrill of joy
and lay aside the care.
I'd like to get out on the floor--
Come on, let's get in the line;
I'd like to face the East once more
And give the same old sign.
I want to hear the gavel ring,
To hear the organ play;
I want to hear the Craftsmen sing
I think the Tyler'd let us in,
That old familiar lay.
Although he'd hesitate,
And then we'd see that same old grin.
Come on, or we'll be late.
Pass up your bridge or picture show,
Your wrestling bout or fight;
Switch off that darned old TV set--
Let's go to Lodge tonight.

The Trowel

Written by Michael N. Salmore

The tools of a true Master Mason-
A man who has proven his skill-
Are any or all that he chooses,
His task to correctly fulfill.
Foremost of these is the Trowel,
Which practical builders all class
As the tool for spreading of mortar
Uniting the house in one mass.

But we as Freemasons would use it
For purpose more noble and grand,
As craftsmen have faithfully taught us,
As Masonry's ritual's command,
To spread the cement of affection,
Devotion and brotherly love,
To bring peace, good will and contentment
On earth as in Heaven above.

Yea; this is the cement that unites us
In one sacred union of friends-
Brothers 'mongst whom no contention,
Nor discord nor diff'rence portends,
Except that most noble contention
By Masons Accepted and Free;
Or rather that fine emulation
Of who can best work and agree.

When is a Man a Mason?

When he can look out over the rivers, the hills, and the far horizon with a profound sense of his own littleness in the vast scheme of things, and yet have faith, hope, and courage-which is the root of every virtue.

When he knows that down in his heart every man is as noble, as vile, as divine, as diabolic, and as lonely as himself, and seeks to know, to forgive, and to love his fellowman.

When he knows how to sympathize with men in their sorrows, yea, even in their sins-knowing that each man fights a hard fight against many odds.

When he has learned how to make friends and to keep them, and above all how to keep friends with himself.

When he loves flowers, can hunt birds without a gun, and feels the thrill of an old forgotten joy when he hears the laugh of a little child.

When he can be happy and high-minded amid the meaner drudgeries of life.

When star-crowned trees and the glint of sunlight on flowing waters subdue him like the thought of one much loved and long dead.

When no voice of distress reaches his ears i vain, and no hand seeks his aid without response.

When he finds good in every faith that helps any man to lay hold of divine things and sees majestic meanings in life, whatever the name of that faith may be.

When he can look into a wayside puddle and see something beyond mud, and into the fce of the most forlorn fellow mortal and see something beyond sin.

When he knows how to pray, how to love, how to hope.

When he has kept faith with himself, with hs fellowman, and with his God; in his hands a sword for evil, in his heart a bit of a song-glad to live, but not afraid to die!

Such a man has found the only real secret of Masonry, and the one which it is trying to give to all the world.

       TELEPHONE  CALL

How good it often  is to have

Someone that you know

Pick up the telephone and call

Just to say hello

No special message do they bring

It's just a friendly call

That proves without a doubt

You matter after all

So though the skies are overcast

Your day may brighter grow

When someone calls you on the phone

Just to say hello.

OUT IN THE FIELDS WITH GOD

The little cares that fretted me

I lost them yesterday

Among the fields, above the sea

Among the winds at play

Among the lowing of the herds

The rustling of the trees

Among the singing birds

The humming of the bees

The foolish fears of what may pass

I cast them all away

Among the clover-scented grass

Among the new mown hay

Among the rustling of the corn

Where drowsy poppies nod

Where ill thoughts die and good are born

Out in the fields with God

LAST NIGHT I KNELT

  Last night I knelt where Hiram knelt

                 And took an obligation

   And now I'm closer to my God

                For I'm a Master Mason

   Tho heretofore my fellow men seemed

                Each one like the other

   Today I search each one apart

                I'm looking for my "Brother"

   And as I feel his friendly grip

                It fills my heart with pride

   I know that while I'm on the square

                That he is on my side

   His footsteps on my errand go

                If I should so require

   His prayers will plead on my behalf

                Should I so desire

   My words are safe within his breast

                As though within my own

   His hand forever on my back

                To help me safely home

   Good counsel whispers in my ear

                And warns of any danger

   By square and compass 'tis Brother now

                Who once would call me stranger

   I might have lived a moral life

                And risen to distinction

   Without my Brother's helping hand

                And the fellowship of Masons

   But God who knows how hard it is

                To resist life's temptations

   Knows why I knelt where Hiram knelt

                And took that obligation 

Don't Forget

Forget the hasty, unkind word

Forget the slander you have heard

Forget the quarrels and the cause

Forget the whole affair, because

Forgetting is the only way

Forget the storm of yesterday

Forget the knocker and the squeak

Forget the bad day of the week

Forget you're not a millionaire

Forget the gray streaks in your hair

Forget to even get the blues

But don't forget to pay your DUES