THE OLD MASTERS WAGES
I meet a dear old man today
Who wore a Masonic pin,
It was old and faded like the man
Its edges were worn quite thin
I approached the park bench where he sat
To give the old brother his do
I said, I see youve traveled east
He said, I have, have you
I said, I have and in my day
Before the all seeing sun
I played in the rubble with Jubala
Jubilo and Jubalum
He shouted, dont laugh at the work my son
Its good and sweet and true
And if youve traveled as you said
You should give these thing a due.
The word, the sign, the token
The sweet Masonic prayer
The vow that all have taken
Who have climbed the inner stair.
The wages of a Mason
Are never paid in gold
But the gain comes from contentment
When youre week and growing old.
You see Ive carried my obligations
For almost fifty years
It has helped me through the hardships
And the failures full of tears.
Now Im losing my mind and my body
Death is near but I dont despair
Ive lived my life upon the level
And Im dying upon the square.
Sometimes the greatest lessons
Are those that are learned anew
And the old man in the park today
Has changed my point of view.
To all Masonic brothers
The only secret is to care
May you live upon the level.
May you part upon the square.
