THE TEMPLE
by Lawrence N. Greenleaf
The Temple made of wood and stone may crumble and decay,
But there's a viewless fabric which shall never fade away,
Age after age each Mason strives to carry out his plan,
But still the work's unfinished which those ancient Three began.
None but immortal eyes may view complete in all its parts
The Temple formed of Living Stones- the structure made of hearts.
'Neath every form of government, in every age and clime,
Amid the world's convulsions and the ghastly wrecks of time,
While empires rise in splendor and are conquered and o'erthrown,
And cities crumble in the dust, their very sites unknown,
Beneath the sunny smile of peace, the threatening frown of strife,
Lo! Masonry has stood unmoved- with age renewed her life.
She claims her votaries in all climes, for none are under ban,
Who place implied trust in God, and toward their fellow man,
The heart that shares another's woe, beats just as warm and true
Within the breast of Christian, or Mohammedan, or Jew.
She levels all distinctions from the highest to the least,
The Kings must yield obedience to the peasant in the East.
What honored names on history's page, o'er whose brave deeds we pore,
Have knelt before our sacred shrine, and trod the checkered floor!
Kings, princes, statesmen, heroes, bards, who squared their actions true,
Between the Pillars of the Porch, they pass in long review.
O, brothers! What a glorious thought for us to dwell upon;
The mystic tie which binds our hearts, bound that of WASHINGTON.
Although our past achievements we with conscious pride review,
As long as there's Rough Ashlars there is work for us to do.
We must still shape the Living Stone with instruments of love,
For that eternal Mansion in the Paradise above
Toil as we've toiled in ages past, to carry out the plan-
'Tis this: The Fatherhood of God, the Brotherhood of Man.
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