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Ashlar Home > Poems > Donald Weisse Sr.
> The Tresleboard

The Tresleboard

By Donald Weisse Sr.

The chies are softly striking
Twelve high is the hour they tell
When we call the Craft from their labors
A time to meditate well.

Look into your sanctum sanctorum
That place there beyond your mind
Where on the trestleboard of your soul
Your life has made its design.

Is it really a beautiful picture?
Are its lines and angles all true?
Does it show the life you are living?
Are you proud of the picture you drew?

If you had the chance, would you change it?
By the better deeds to be done,
Through applying the lessons taught you
By the square, the compass, and plumb?

This road we travel, my brother,
Is one way, to the east from the west.
Therefore, the designs on your trestleboard
Should never be less than your best.

So when the Supreme Architect greets you
Your trestleboard in his hand,
You can stand there just and upright
As a Mason and as a man.
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