The Master's Song.

Written for the freemasons of St. John's Lodge No. 1, New York.     Members of an order         Ancient as the earth;     All within our border         Realize its worth.     Genial is the greeting         That awaits us there,     On the level meeting,         Parting on the square.     Like the workmen olden,         Who our craft designed,     We the precept golden         Ever bear in mind.     Masons never falter,         We each other know,     As around the altar         Hand in hand we go;     Loud hosannas singing         To our Source above,     And heart-offerings bringing         To the God of Love.     Like the workmen olden,         Who our craft designed,     We the precept golden         Ever bear in mind.     There's a mystic beauty         In our working plan,     Teaching man his duty         To his fellow man:     As a band of brothers,         Ever just and true,     Do we unto others         As we'd have them do.     Like the workmen olden,         Who our craft designed,     We the precept golden         Ever bear in mind.