Song VII. New-year, or Festival Song

Come Brothers, let us cheerful sing, Who can our arts discover? For friendship, like a boiling spring, Flows constant for each other. Let's crown the festival with mirth, And hail the great mysterious birth, That adds such friendship here on earth, As makes a faithful Brother.

While jarring discords separate The firmest bands of unity, Of every class, of every state, Except it be Freemasonry; Our arts are form'd so just and pure, They will from age to age endure, And in the bosom rest secure, With all that gain the mystery.

Our manners we derive and wear, From actors we discover; Let's cheerful hear him in the chair, And each proclaiming brother. And as we now begin the year, Let love and friendship fill the ear, With cordial harmony sincere, To every faithful Brother.

The greatest man found in the land, Of this, or any other, Will take a brother by the hand, And bid him welcome hither. O may their same in raptures roll, And wide extend from pole to pole; There's no such friendship for the soul, No, not with one another.

Where is an art with Masons vie? None—say the wise, of every tongue; Yet so secure, from thought, or eye, And handed down from fire to son. Now let each celebrare the strain That echoes with a Mason's name: And all as one salute the fame Of our Grand Master WASHINGTON.