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The Lost WordCHAPTER XXXIthe symbolism of freemasonryalbert gallatin mackey
 
 The last of the symbols, depending for its existence on its connection 
      with a myth to which I shall invite attention, is the Lost Word, and 
      the search for it. Very appropriately may this symbol terminate our 
      investigations, since it includes within its comprehensive scope all the 
      others, being itself the very essence of the science of masonic symbolism. 
      The other symbols require for their just appreciation a knowledge of the 
      origin of the order, because they owe their birth to its relationship with 
      kindred and anterior institutions. But the symbolism of the Lost Word has 
      reference exclusively to the design and the objects of the institution. First, let us define the symbol, and then investigate its 
      interpretation. The mythical history of Freemasonry informs us that there once existed 
      a WORD of surpassing value, and claiming a profound veneration; that this 
      Word was known to but few; that it was at length lost; and that a 
      temporary substitute for it was adopted. But as the very philosophy of 
      Masonry teaches us that there can be no death without a resurrection,—no 
      decay without a subsequent restoration,—on the same principle it follows 
      that the loss of the Word must suppose its eventual recovery. Now, this it is, precisely, that constitutes the myth of the Lost Word 
      and the search for it. No matter what was the word, no matter how it was 
      lost, nor why a substitute was provided, nor when nor where it was 
      recovered. These are all points of subsidiary importance, necessary, it is 
      true, for knowing the legendary history, but not necessary for 
      understanding the symbolism. The only term of the myth that is to be 
      regarded in the study of its interpretation, is the abstract idea of a 
      word lost and afterwards recovered. This, then, points us to the goal to which we must direct our steps in 
      the pursuit of the investigation. But the symbolism, referring in this case, as I have already said, 
      solely to the great design of Freemasonry, the nature of that design at 
      once suggests itself as a preliminary subject of inquiry in the 
      investigation. What, then, is the design of Freemasonry? A very large majority of its 
      disciples, looking only to its practical results, as seen in the every-day 
      business of life,—to the noble charities which it dispenses, to the tears 
      of widows which it has dried, to the cries of orphans which it has hushed, 
      to the wants of the destitute which it has supplied,—arrive with too much 
      rapidity at the conclusion that Charity, and that, too, in its least 
      exalted sense of eleemosynary aid, is the great design of the institution. Others, with a still more contracted view, remembering the pleasant 
      reunions at their lodge banquets, the unreserved communications which are 
      thus encouraged, and the solemn obligations of mutual trust and confidence 
      that are continually inculcated, believe that it was intended solely to 
      promote the social sentiments and cement the bonds of friendship. But, although the modern lectures inform us that Brotherly Love and 
      Relief are two of "the principal tenets of a Mason's profession," yet, 
      from the same authority, we learn that Truth is a third and not less 
      important one; and Truth, too, not in its old Anglo-Saxon meaning of 
      fidelity to engagements,232
      but in that more strictly philosophical one in which it is opposed to 
      intellectual and religious error or falsehood. But I have shown that the Primitive Freemasonry of the ancients was 
      instituted for the purpose of preserving that truth which had been 
      originally communicated to the patriarchs, in all its integrity, and that 
      the Spurious Masonry, or the Mysteries, originated in the earnest need of 
      the sages, and philosophers, and priests, to find again the same truth 
      which had been lost by the surrounding multitudes. I have shown, also, 
      that this same truth continued to be the object of the Temple Masonry, 
      which was formed by a union of the Primitive, or Pure, and the Spurious 
      systems. Lastly, I have endeavored to demonstrate that this truth related 
      to the nature of God and the human soul. The search, then, after this truth, I suppose to constitute the end and 
      design of Speculative Masonry. From the very commencement of his career, 
      the aspirant is by significant symbols and expressive instructions 
      directed to the acquisition of this divine truth; and the whole lesson, if 
      not completed in its full extent, is at least well developed in the myths 
      and legends of the Master's degree. God and the soul—the unity of 
      the one and the immortality of the other—are the great truths, the search 
      for which is to constitute the constant occupation of every Mason, and 
      which, when found, are to become the chief corner-stone, or the stone of 
      foundation, of the spiritual temple—"the house not made with hands"—which 
      he is engaged in erecting. Now, this idea of a search after truth forms so prominent a part of the 
      whole science of Freemasonry, that I conceive no better or more 
      comprehensive answer could be given to the question, What is 
      Freemasonry? than to say that it is a science which is engaged in the 
      search after divine truth. But Freemasonry is eminently a system of symbolism, and all its 
      instructions are conveyed in symbols. It is, therefore, to be supposed 
      that so prominent and so prevailing an idea as this,—one that constitutes, 
      as I have said, the whole design of the institution, and which may 
      appropriately be adopted as the very definition of its science,—could not 
      with any consistency be left without its particular symbol. The WORD, therefore, I conceive to be the symbol of Divine Truth; 
      and all its modifications—the loss, the substitution, and the recovery—are 
      but component parts of the mythical symbol which represents a search after 
      truth. How, then, is this symbolism preserved? How is the whole history of 
      this Word to be interpreted, so as to bear, in all its accidents of time, 
      and place, and circumstance, a patent reference to the substantive idea 
      that has been symbolized? The answers to these questions embrace what is, perhaps, the most 
      intricate as well as most ingenious and interesting portion of the science 
      of masonic symbolism. This symbolism may be interpreted, either in an application to a 
      general or to a special sense. The general application will embrace the whole history of Freemasonry, 
      from its inception to its consummation. The search after the Word is an 
      epitome of the intellectual and religious progress of the order, from the 
      period when, by the dispersion at Babel, the multitudes were enshrouded in 
      the profundity of a moral darkness where truth was apparently forever 
      extinguished. The true name of God was lost; his true nature was not 
      understood; the divine lessons imparted by our father Noah were no longer 
      remembered; the ancient traditions were now corrupted; the ancient symbols 
      were perverted. Truth was buried beneath the rubbish of Sabaism, and the 
      idolatrous adoration of the sun and stars had taken the place of the olden 
      worship of the true God. A moral darkness was now spread over the face of 
      the earth, as a dense, impenetrable cloud, which obstructed the rays of 
      the spiritual sun, and covered the people as with a gloomy pall of 
      intellectual night. But this night was not to last forever. A brighter dawn was to arise, 
      and amidst all this gloom and darkness there were still to be found a few 
      sages in whom the religious sentiment, working in them with powerful 
      throes, sent forth manfully to seek after truth. There were, even in those 
      days of intellectual and religious darkness, craftsmen who were willing to 
      search for the Lost Word. And though they were unable to find it, 
      their approximation to truth was so near that the result of their search 
      may well be symbolized by the Substitute Word. It was among the idolatrous multitudes that the Word had been 
      lost. It was among them that the Builder had been smitten, and that the 
      works of the spiritual temple had been suspended; and so, losing at each 
      successive stage of their decline, more and more of the true knowledge of 
      God and of the pure religion which had originally been imparted by Noah, 
      they finally arrived at gross materialism and idolatry, losing all sight 
      of the divine existence. Thus it was that the truth—the Word—was said to 
      have been lost; or, to apply the language of Hutchinson, modified in its 
      reference to the time, "in this situation, it might well be said that the 
      guide to heaven was lost, and the master of the works of righteousness was 
      smitten. The nations had given themselves up to the grossest idolatry, and 
      the service of the true God was effaced from the memory of those who had 
      yielded themselves to the dominion of sin." And now it was among the philosophers and priests in the ancient 
      Mysteries, or the spurious Freemasonry, that an anxiety to discover the 
      truth led to the search for the Lost Word. These were the craftsmen who 
      saw the fatal-blow which had been given, who knew that the Word was now 
      lost, but were willing to go forth, manfully and patiently, to seek its 
      restoration. And there were the craftsmen who, failing to rescue it from 
      the grave of oblivion into which it had fallen, by any efforts of their 
      own incomplete knowledge, fell back upon the dim traditions which had been 
      handed down from primeval times, and through their aid found a substitute 
      for truth in their own philosophical religions. And hence Schmidtz, speaking of these Mysteries of the pagan world, 
      calls them the remains of the ancient Pelasgian religion, and says that 
      "the associations of persons for the purpose of celebrating them must 
      therefore have been formed at the time when the overwhelming influence of 
      the Hellenic religion began to gain the upper hand in Greece, and when 
      persons who still entertained a reverence for the worship of former times 
      united together, with the intention of preserving and upholding among 
      themselves as much as possible of the religion of their forefathers." Applying, then, our interpretation in a general sense, the Word 
      itself being the symbol of Divine Truth, the narrative of its loss 
      and the search for its recovery becomes a mythical symbol of the decay and 
      loss of the true religion among the ancient nations, at and after the 
      dispersion on the plains of Shinar, and of the attempts of the wise men, 
      the philosophers, and priests, to find and retain it in their secret 
      Mysteries and initiations, which have hence been designated as the 
      Spurious Freemasonry of Antiquity. But I have said that there is a special, or individual, as well as a 
      general interpretation. This compound or double symbolism, if I may so 
      call it, is by no means unusual in Freemasonry. I have already exhibited 
      an illustration of it in the symbolism of Solomon's temple, where, in a 
      general sense, the temple is viewed as a symbol of that spiritual temple 
      formed by the aggregation of the whole order, and in which each mason is 
      considered as a stone; and, in an individual or special sense, the same 
      temple is considered as a type of that spiritual temple which each mason 
      is directed to erect in his heart. Now, in this special or individual interpretation, the Word, with its 
      accompanying myth of a loss, a substitute, and a recovery, becomes a 
      symbol of the personal progress of a candidate from his first initiation 
      to the completion of his course, when he receives a full development of 
      the Mysteries. The aspirant enters on this search after truth, as an Entered 
      Apprentice, in darkness, seeking for light—the light of wisdom, the light 
      of truth, the light symbolized by the Word. For this important task, upon 
      which he starts forth gropingly, falteringly, doubtingly, in want and in 
      weakness, he is prepared by a purification of the heart, and is invested 
      with a first substitute for the true Word, which, like the pillar that 
      went before the Israelites in the wilderness, is to guide him onwards in 
      his weary journey. He is directed to take, as a staff and scrip for his 
      journey, all those virtues which expand the heart and dignify the soul. 
      Secrecy, obedience, humility, trust in God, purity of conscience, economy 
      of time, are all inculcated by impressive types and symbols, which connect 
      the first degree with the period of youth. And then, next in the degree of Fellow Craft, he fairly enters upon his 
      journey. Youth has now passed, and manhood has come on. New duties and 
      increased obligations press upon the individual. The thinking and working 
      stage of life is here symbolized. Science is to be cultivated; wisdom is 
      to be acquired; the lost Word—divine truth—is still to be sought for. But 
      even yet it is not to be found. And now the Master Mason comes, with all the symbolism around him of 
      old age—trials, sufferings, death. And here, too, the aspirant, pressing 
      onward, always onward, still cries aloud for "light, more light." 
      The search is almost over, but the lesson, humiliating to human nature, is 
      to be taught, that in this life—gloomy and dark, earthly and carnal—pure 
      truth has no abiding place; and contented with a substitute, and to that 
      second temple of eternal life, for that true Word, that divine 
      Truth, which will teach us all that we shall ever learn of God and his 
      emanation, the human soul. So, the Master Mason, receiving this substitute for the lost Word, 
      waits with patience for the time when it shall be found, and perfect 
      wisdom shall be attained. But, work as we will, this symbolic Word—this knowledge of divine 
      Truth—is never thoroughly attained in this life, or in its symbol, the 
      Master Mason's lodge. The corruptions of mortality, which encumber and 
      cloud the human intellect, hide it, as with a thick veil, from mortal 
      eyes. It is only, as I have just said, beyond the tomb, and when released 
      from the earthly burden of life, that man is capable of fully receiving 
      and appreciating the revelation. Hence, then, when we speak of the 
      recovery of the Word, in that higher degree which is a supplement to 
      Ancient Craft Masonry, we intimate that that sublime portion of the 
      masonic system is a symbolic representation of the state after death. For 
      it is only after the decay and fall of this temple of life, which, as 
      masons, we have been building, that from its ruins, deep beneath its 
      foundations, and in the profound abyss of the grave, we find that divine 
      truth, in the search for which life was spent, if not in vain, at least 
      without success, and the mystic key to which death only could supply. And now we know by this symbolism what is meant by masonic 
      labor, which, too, is itself but another form of the same symbol. 
      The search for the Word—to find divine Truth—this, and this only, is a 
      mason's work, and the WORD is his reward. Labor, said the old monks, is worship—laborare est orare; and 
      thus in our lodges do we worship, working for the Word, working for the 
      Truth, ever looking forward, casting no glance behind, but cheerily hoping 
      for the consummation and the reward of our labor in the knowledge which is 
      promised to him who plays no laggard's part. Goethe, himself a mason and a poet, knew and felt all this symbolism of 
      a mason's life and work, when he wrote that beautiful poem, which Carlyle 
      has thus thrown into his own rough but impulsive language. 
        "The mason's ways areA type of existence,—
 And to his 
        persistence
 Is as the days are
 Of men in this world.
 "The future hides in itGladness and sorrow;
 We press still 
        thorow,
 Nought that abides in it
 Daunting us—onward.
 "And solemn before usVeiled the dark portal,
 Goal of all 
        mortal;
 Stars silent rest o'er us
 Graves under us silent.
 "While earnest thou gazestCome boding of terror,
 Comes 
        phantasm and error,
 Perplexing the bravest
 With doubt and 
        misgiving.
 "But heard are the voices,Heard are the sages,
 The worlds and 
        the ages;
 'Choose well; your choice is
 Brief and yet endless.
 "'Here eyes do regard you,In eternity's stillness;
 Here is all 
        fullness,
 Ye, brave to reward you;
 Work and despair not.'"
 And now, in concluding this work, so inadequate to the importance of 
      the subjects that have been discussed, one deduction, at least, may be 
      drawn from all that has been said. In tracing the progress of Freemasonry, and in detailing its system of 
      symbolism, it has been found to be so intimately connected with the 
      history of philosophy, of religion, and of art, in all ages of the world, 
      that the conviction at once forces itself upon the mind, that no mason can 
      expect thoroughly to comprehend its nature, or to appreciate its character 
      as a science, unless he shall devote himself, with some labor and 
      assiduity, to this study of its system. That skill which consists in 
      repeating, with fluency and precision, the ordinary lectures, in complying 
      with all the ceremonial requisitions of the ritual, or the giving, with 
      sufficient accuracy, the appointed modes of recognition, pertains only to 
      the very rudiments of the masonic science. But there is a far nobler series of doctrines with which Freemasonry is 
      connected, and which it has been my object, in this work, to present in 
      some imperfect way. It is these which constitute the science and the 
      philosophy of Freemasonry, and it is these alone which will return the 
      student who devotes himself to the task, a sevenfold reward for his labor. Freemasonry, viewed no longer, as too long it has been, as a merely 
      social institution, has now assumed its original and undoubted position as 
      a speculative science. While the mere ritual is still carefully preserved, 
      as the casket should be which contains so bright a jewel; while its 
      charities are still dispensed as the necessary though incidental result of 
      all its moral teachings; while its social tendencies are still cultivated 
      as the tenacious cement which is to unite so fair a fabric in symmetry and 
      strength, the masonic mind is everywhere beginning to look and ask for 
      something, which, like the manna in the desert, shall feed us, in our 
      pilgrimage, with intellectual food. The universal cry, throughout the 
      masonic world, is for light; our lodges are henceforth to be schools; our 
      labor is to be study; our wages are to be learning; the types and symbols, 
      the myths and allegories, of the institution are beginning to be 
      investigated with reference to their ultimate meaning; our history is now 
      traced by zealous inquiries as to its connection with antiquity; and 
      Freemasons now thoroughly understand that often quoted definition, that 
      "Masonry is a science of morality veiled in allegory and illustrated by 
      symbols." Thus to learn Masonry is to know our work and to do it well. What true 
      mason would shrink from the task? FOOTNOTES
      232. Bosworth (Aug. Sax. Dict.) defines treowth to 
      signify "troth, truth, treaty, league, pledge, covenant." 
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