THE FELLOW-CRAFT's SONG

Hail Masonry! thou Crast divine! Glory of earth! from heaven reveal'd! Which doth with jewels precious shine, From all but Masons eyes conceal'd.

Thy praises due, who can rehearse, In nervous prose or flowing verse?

From scorching heat, and piercing cold, From beasts whose roar the forests rend; From the assault of warriors bold, The Mason's Art mankind defends.

Be to this Art due honour paid, From which mankind receives such aid.

Ensigns of state, that seed our pride, Distinctions troublesome and vain. By Masons true are laid aside. Art's free-born sons such toys disdain.

Enobled by the name we bear, Distinguish'd by the badge we wear.

Sweet fellowship from envy free, Social converse of wise and good; The Lodge's lasting cement be, Which has for ages firmly stood.

A Lodge thus bright, for ages past, Has lasted, and shall ever last.

Then in our songs be justice done, To those who have enrich'd the art; From ADAM to great WASHINGTON, And let each brother bear a part.

Let noble Masons' healths go round. Their praise in lofty Lodge resound.