Father's Lodge

Discussion in 'Poetry and Words of Wisdom' started by Blake Bowden, Aug 29, 2010.

  1. Blake Bowden

    Blake Bowden Administrator Staff Member

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    Father′s lodge, I well remember, wasn′t large, as lodges go;
    There was trouble in December getting to it through the snow.
    But he seldom missed a meeting; drifts or blossoms in the lane,
    Still the Tyler heard his greeting, winter ice or summer rain.

    Father′s lodge thought nothing of it; ′mid their labors and their cares
    Those old Masons learned to love it, that fraternity of theirs.
    What′s a bit of stormy weather, when a little down the road
    Men are gathering together, helping bear each other′s load?

    Father′s lodge had made a village; men of father′s sturdy brawn
    Turned a wilderness to tillage, seized the flag, and carried on.
    Made a village, built a city, shaped a county, formed a state.
    Simple men, not wise nor witty––humble men, and yet how great!

    Father′s lodge had caught the gleaming of the great Masonic past;
    Thinking, toiling, daring, dreaming, they were builders of the last.
    Quiet men, not rich nor clever, with the tools they found at hand
    Building for the great forever, first a village, then a land.

    Father′s lodge no temple builded, shaped of steel and carved of stone;
    Marble columns, ceilings gilded, father′s lodge has never known.
    But a heritage of glory they have left, the humble ones––
    They have left their mighty story in the keeping of their sons.

    Source: Douglas Malloch
     

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