Songs, Song

On, on, my dear brethern, pursue your great lecture, Refine on the precepts of old architecture; High honour to masons the craft daily brings, Who are brothers of princes, and fellows of kings. We drove the rude Vandals and the Goths of the stage, Reviving the art of Augustus' sam'd age; And Vespasian destroy'd the vast temple in vain, Since so many now rise where our principles reign. The noble five Orders, compos'd with such art, Will amaze the fix'd eye, and engage the whole heart; Proportion's sweet harmony gracing the whole, Give our work, like the glorious creation, a soul. Then, Master, and brethern, preserve your great name, This Lodge so majestic will purchase you fame; Rever'd it shall stand till all nature expire. And its glories ne'er fade till the world is on fire. See, see, behold here, what rewards all our toil, Invigorates genius, and bids nature smile: To our noble Grand Master let bumpers be crown'd, To all masons, a bumper, so let it go round. Again, my lov'd brethern, again let it pass, Our ancient firm union cements with the glass: And all the contention 'mong masons shall be, Who better can work, or who better agree.

In air he hung the pendent world, And o'er it spread the azure skies; Stars in circles caus'd to run, And in the centre fix'd the Sun.

Then Man he call'd forth out of dust, And form'd him with a living soul; All things committed to his trust, And made him ruler of the whole; But, ungrateful unto Heaven, The rebel was from Eden driven.

From thence proceeded all our woes, Nor could mankind one comfort cheer; Untill Free-masonry arose, And form'd another Eden here; 'Tis only on masonic ground, Pleasure with innocence is found.

'Tis here the purest fountain flow, Here naught corrupt can enter in; Here trees of knowledge stately grow, Whose fruit we taste exempt from sin; In friendship sweet we still abound, While gaurdian angels hover round.