I AM! I AM!

Are you a Mason? Aye, I am! But stay

The mere profession of its principles,

When unsupported by the daily acts

Of duty it involves, proves false the tale,

And Truth, that attribute divine, the sure

Foundation of Masonic heritage,

Shrinks back appalled at such a mockery,

Which, like the barren fig tree, fair to sight,

Is but the semblance of a fruitful tree.

"Faith without works is dead;"

Profession without practice, dead, also;

A man's a Mason only when he strives

To make his practice quadrate with his creed.

What is a Mason?

Symbol of a race,

Grand and historic, 'neath whose steadfast hands

The mighty fabric of the Temple rose,

Until in beauty and strength it stood

Harmoniously proclaiming, God is great!

Though-at the dictum of the power to whom

'Twas raised -overthrown and crumbled into dust,

With not a fragment left to mark the place,

Or tell the tale of its magnificence;

The art survives, but not alone

In perishable stone.

Through faith in God,

And hope of immortality, we build

A spiritual temple to His name;

Founded on Truth and righteous Charity.

Oh, glorious fellowship! Unshackled by

Mortal interpretation of the word

Vouchsafed by God to man, we seek the Truth

In Love, the refulgent essence of all Truth,

Which is of God alone, and God is Love.

He, then, who takes the compasses in hand

To circumscribe his daily life, will find

The center in that Love to God expressed

In deeds of charity and love to men.