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Ashlar Home > Poems > Douglas Malloch

The Poetic Works of Douglas Malloch

Father's Lodge

Father′s lodge, I well remember, wasn′t large, as lodges go
There was trouble in December getting to it through the snow.
But he seldom missed a meeting drifts or blossoms in the lane,
Still the Tyler heard his greeting, winter ice or summer rain.

Father′s lodge thought nothing of it ′mid their labors and their cares
Those old Masons learned to love it, that fraternity of theirs.
What′s a bit of stormy weather, when a little down the road
Men are gathering together, helping bear each other′s load?

Father′s lodge had made a village men of father′s sturdy brawn
Turned a wilderness to tillage, seized the flag, and carried on.
Made a village, built a city, shaped a county, formed a state.
Simple men, not wise nor wittyhumble men, and yet how great!

Father′s lodge had caught the gleaming of the great Masonic past
Thinking, toiling, daring, dreaming, they were builders of the last.
Quiet men, not rich nor clever, with the tools they found at hand
Building for the great forever, first a village, then a land.

Father′s lodge no temple builded, shaped of steel and carved of stone
Marble columns, ceilings gilded, father′s lodge has never known.
But a heritage of glory they have left, the humble ones
They have left their mighty story in the keeping of their sons.

Always a Mason

Let no king quite put off his crown!
I still would have him kingly when
In some old inn the king sat down
To banquet with his servingmen.
I love a mild and merry priest,
Whom Brothers toast, and neighbors prod
Yet would I have him, at the feast,
A little of the man of God.

So with a Mason: I would see
Him somewhat of a Mason still,
Though far from Lodgerooms he may be,
In court, or countinghouse, or mill.
Whatever garment he may doff,
What mark Masonic lay aside,
I would not have him quite put off
The Craft he lately glorified.

A soldier is a soldier, though
He lays the sword aside awhile.
The time, the place, I do not know
Man may not serve, or my not smile.
I know no moment anywhere,
Whatever place the place may be,
A Mason may not always wear
A little of his Masonry.

Echoes

Fine men have walked this way before,
Whatever Lodge your Lodge may be
Whoever stands before the door,
The sacred arch of Masonry,
Stands where the wise, the great, the good,
In their own time and place have stood.

You are not Brother just with these,
Your friends and neighbors you are kin
With Masons down the centuries
This room that now you enter in
Has felt the trod of many feet,
For here all Masonry you meet.

You walk the path the great have trod,
The great in heart, the great in mind,
Who looked through Masonry to God,
And looked through God to all mankind
Learned more that word or sign or grip,
Learned Man's and God's relationship.

To him who sees, who understands,
How mighty Masonry appears!
A Brotherhood of many lands,
A fellowship of many years,
A Brotherhood so great, so vast,
Of all the Craft of all the past.

And so I say a sacred trust
Is yours to share, is yours to keep
I hear the voice of men of dust,
I hear the step of men asleep
And down the endless future, too,
Your own shall echo after you.
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