XLIV. SONG.

(By G. I. B.-T. R. C. G.)

I drink to the Lodge which no Lodge can * surpass

For peace, love, and harmony, social and dear; Where the bright beads that float on the top of each glass,

Are types of the spirits that shine round me here.

For sparkling and light is the joy of our souls,
Upheld by the magic of generous wine;
And mellow our hearts as the juice in these bowls,
Which fondly I quaff to our compact divine.
How oft do we weep in this dark world of ours,
To see the bless'd links of affection untwined;
A long chain of kindred dispersed in few hours,
And all save the mother's fond bosom, unkind?
While we in each quarter from which the winds
blow,

A brother can find on each far distant shore, To dry up the salt tears of sorrow that flow, And pilot us safe to joy's harbour once more. Then fill the last glass which Sobriety sends, (The last for this evening, by good Mason's laws),

On which her fair sister, mild Prudence, attends,
And nightly enjoins us to list in her cause.
Fill up may the beam in each goblet to-night,
Preserve us from sickness, from sorrow, and
pain,

And fill us with hope, like that pillar of light
Which guided the chosen to rapture again!

* This song is intended for the concluding one at every convivial meeting of Freemasons, where riety and prudence are respected

XLV.

(By Brother Douglas Jerrold.)

Come, raise we a Temple of purpose divine;
Let cedars be chosen, the granite be laid;
Tho' we carve not the cherubim's face on the
shrine,

Be sure highest spirits will lend us their aid.
We ask not to burnish our Temple with gold,
We ask not rich hangings-blue, purple, or red;
We seek but to build up a house for the old,

A refuge, a home, for the helpless Grey Head. 'Tis little to clamber life's wearisome steep, When youth holds the staff, and our sandals

are new;

Let hurricanes ravage, we tranquilly sleep,

'Tho rock be our couch, and our canopy, yew. We've hope when we climb with the bright early day,

The hill yet before us, we heed not our bed; But when we creep down with the sun-setting ray, The earth coldly pillows the helpless Grey Head.

This mountain of life hath its vines and its streams,

The bountiful olive, milk, honey, and corn; And some journey o'er it in happiest dreams.

And feed at all seasons from Plenty's full Horn. And some, crawling downward, not once on the way,

Have tasted the banquet by competence spread; And bent on their staff, in mute eloquence pray, "A shelter, support, for the helpless Grey Head."

Then build we a Temple for age-stricken grief;
And think, as we bid the bright edifice rise,
We give to poor pilgrims a passing relief,
Who, summon'd, shall tell the good deed in the
skies.

Then build we the Temple, and pour we the wheat,
For feeding the wretched, with manna we're fed;
What oil is so fragrant, what honey so sweet,
As that we bestow on the helpless Grey Head?

XLVI. A LILT FOR EVERY LODGE.
(By Brother John Lee Stevens.)

Kind Brothers all, the Master's call
Enforces me before ye,

To sing a stave so long and grave
I'm much afraid 'twill bore ye;
Yet mind, if you should think so too,
To lighten my disaster,

You must agree to pardon me,
And only blame the Master:-

But let that pass and be each glass
Of ev'ry drop divested;

And you may then fill up again
As soon as you're requested!

There never met a better set

In soberness or laughter,

For labour while the Lodge we tile,
Or for refreshment after;
For Charity, whose objects three-
Girls-Boys-and the Asylum-
Take all on hips for stewardships,
And of their cash beguile 'em :-
But let that pass and be each glass
Of ev'ry drop divested;

And you can then fill up again
The instant you're requested!
The Master knows our ancient laws,
Our landmarks and their meaning,
And makes us free of each degree
And pleasure intervening;

His Wardens two good men and true
Beneath his chief direction,

In skill excel, and practice well
The precepts of subjection:-

But let that pass and be each glass
Of ev'ry drop divested;

And you may then fill up again-
But not till you're requested!

Past Masters each are proud to teach
The recently inducted,

And no excuse can juniors use
For being uninstructed;

The Deacons say, as well they may,
Their work's a work of pleasure;
And our M.C. declares that he
Feels honour'd beyond measure:-
But let that pass and be each glass
Of ev'ry drop divested;

And you can then fill up again—
If you should be requested!

The Chaplain prays for lengthen'd days,
And more of grace to meet them;
Come dues and fees fast as they please,
The Treasurer will greet them;

The Outward Guard keep careful ward,
So does the Inner, very;

And few the quill guide with such will
As our good Secretary:-

But let that pass and be each glass
Of ev'ry drop divested;

And you may then fill up again-
That is if you're requested!

XLVII. THE LIGHT OF MASONRY. (By Bro. W. Snewing.)

A star burst forth from the golden east,

And shed its rays afar;

It brightened the rosy smile of Peace,

And smoothed the frown of War.

Pale Misery raised her palsied head,
And sunk upon her knee,

And prayed the God of Love to bless
The Light of Masonry.

For, with prophet-eye, that child of grief
Could trace its living ray.

Mid the chequered flight of coming years,
Cleaving its glorious way.

She saw it cheering the widow'd heart,
While orphans bent the knee,
And prayed the God of Love to bless
The Light of Masonry.

In many a heart she saw its ray
Reflected bright and clear;

Which, nurtured thus in the way of truth,
Pursued its true career.

The love of God and man its chart
O'er life's dark-heaving sea;

And she prayed the God of Love to bless
The Light of Masonry.

XLVIII. THE THREE STARS.

Know'st thou the brightest Paradise of Souls, An Eden, where the plants of Heaven bloom, A portion that the Master great bequeathed, When came the dreadful hour of his doom? Know'st thou it then?

'Tis Faith, 'tis Faith so bright,

That strengthens, elevates, and leads us
To Eternal Light.

Know'st thou that lofty feeling of the breast,
That self-denying doth for others plan,