AUTHOR UNKNOWN
It is not ornamental; its cost is not great,
There are things far more useful, yet truly I state
That of all my possessions none can compare
With the White Leather Apron, that all Masons wear.
As a young lad I wondered, just what it all meant,
When Dad hustled around, and so much time was spent
In shaving and dressing and looking just right.
Until Mother would say, it’s the Masons tonight.
Sometimes Mother would say, “Dad what makes you go,
Way up there tonight, through the sleet and snow;
You see the same things each night of the year.”
And then Dad would say, “Yes, I know my dear;
Each time I see the same things, it is true,
Though they be old, they always seem new,
For each hand that I clasp, each friend that I greet
Seem just a little closer, each time that we meet.
Years later I stood at that very same door,
With good men and true, who had entered before,
Kneeled at the Altar, and there I was taught.
That Virtue and Honor never be bought.
That there on the level, men meet and abide.
That wealth and position, is all cast aside.
So Honor the Lambskin, and may it remain,
Forever, untarnished, and free from all stain.
So that when we are called to the Grand Architect’s Love
We will meet him up there, in that Grand Lodge above.
Thanks to Charlie B. for sharing this.
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