The Old Masters Wages

Discussion in 'Poetry and Words of Wisdom' started by jonesvilletexas, Dec 3, 2008.

  1. jonesvilletexas

    jonesvilletexas Premium Member

    "The Old Masters Wages"
    Author Unknown

    I met a dear old man today,
    Who wore a Masonic pin,
    It was old and faded like the man,
    It's edges were worn quite thin.
    I approached the park bench where he sat,
    To give the old brother his due,
    I said, "I see you've traveled east,"
    He said, "I have, have you."
    I said, "I have, and in my day
    Before the all seeing sun,
    I played in the rubble, with Jubala
    Jubalo and Jubalum."
    He shouted, "don't laugh at the work my son,
    It's good and sweet and true,
    And if you've traveled as you said,
    You should give these things their due."
    The word, the sign the token,
    The sweet Masonic prayer,
    The vow that all have taken,
    Who've climbed the inner stair.
    The wages of a Mason,
    are never paid in gold,
    but the gain comes from contentment,
    when you're weak and growing old.
    You see, I've carried my obligations,
    For almost fifty years,
    It has helped me through the hardships
    and the failures full of tears.
    Now I'm losing my mind and body,
    Death is near but I don't despair,
    I've lived my life upon the level,
    And I'm dying upon the square.
    Sometimes the greatest lessons
    Are those that are learned anew,
    And the old man in the park today
    has changed my point of view.
    To all Masonic brother,
    The only secret is to care,
    May you live your life upon the level,
    May you part upon the square.
  2. TexMass

    TexMass Registered User

    Grandpa’s Wooden Chest

    I hated to hear the lawyer say
    The things my grandpa gave away.
    Like his old truck to Dad and Mom
    And world war medals to Uncle John

    My name was called
    And something was said
    About an old wooden box
    Underneath his bed.

    Just a worn out chest
    With a rusty hinge
    But I knew Grandpa kept
    Something special within.

    When I opened the lid
    All I could see
    Were some unused tools
    And a letter to me.

    A large fancy cloth
    With two long strings
    A small wooden hammer
    Among other things

    He wrote, 'a man’s job
    Is to be a good husband father and a friend.
    I built my life as best I could
    By the tools laid here within'.

    He said 'the compasses remind me that life has boundaries
    So live your life within
    The square proves true and so should you
    When dealing with all your friends.

    Be an honorable man and walk uprightly
    According to the plumb.
    And the level teaches us treat all men equal
    Instead of only some.

    And now it’s your turn
    To start your journey for knowledge, love and faith
    So live your life by the Square and Compasses
    And tools of your trade'.

    Many years have passed since I first opened
    Grandpas wooden chest
    The tools he gave me, the words he wrote
    The challenge to be my best.

    Today I’ll visit Grandpa
    At the place where he was laid
    To let him know he can be proud
    I’m a Master of my trade.

    -Wor. Jack Sutton

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