Roswell Lee Lodge

As down the age our hastening way we’re treading.
We reach to-day our genuine silver wedding,
A union crowned with five and twenty years,
Replete with joys, not all untouched by tears;
For some who gathered to our earlier bend
Have raised the Temple’s veil and passed beyond
Toward endless heights of unattained degrees,
Truths more sublime, and better mysteries.
Think not the tie is snapped and these are lost,
For still it binds us o’er the gulf they crossed.

And you, my brothers, whom I meet once more,
The same frank faces that I knew before,—
Your hearts untrusted, though the snows may sprinkle, 
Your locks with powder, or some saucy wrinkle
May sink its crow’s feet round your kindly eyes,
I take your greeting, and my heart replies
True to the pledges of that genial hour
That made us subjects, sworn to friendship’s power.
Pleased to renew the foretime fellowship,
I give you here the mystic word and grip,—
The old Past Master, from that nuptial year
Returned, your guest and youngest brother’s peer. 

I need not say how well my memory plays
The old scenes over of those earlier days,
From the dark poke-hole hears the awful words
That turn the blood of neophytes to curds,
Mounts the black goat cantankerous as a lion.
And sits uneasy on the hot gridiron!
These little facts may rest upon their shrives,
Only too well you know you ‘tis yourselves!
Outside traditions on their charms may dwell;
We’ll just wink knowingly but never tell!

The social gathering and the rich repast
May leave us memories sweeter than a fast,
But better still the echoes of our hall
At Reason’s feast, when words of wisdom fail
Press lips of Learning, Eloquence, and Worth,
Plumed, it may be, with thistle down of mirth
To waft the good seed to a goodly spot
Moistened with water and not made too hot!
And haply, best in all our aims for good,
The deeds that make a genuine brotherhood,—
The helping hand to fellow man distressed, 
Affection’s words to cheer the troubled breast,
The night-long vigils by the bed of pain,
The healing touch that cools the aching brain,
And kindly cure prolonged from week to week
Till health’s new rose repaints the faded cheek,
And when death comes, as come at last it must,
The reverent tenderness that gives dust to dust!

Brothers, I reach you the fraternal hand
For all good words and works for which we stand,
Wide may the generous impulse grow and spread,
Till Human Brotherhood is the whole world’s creed,
And the grand watchword spreads from sea to sea,–
Faith, Hope and Charity and so mote it is!