The Lambskin
From: Ron Blaisdell [ron@blaisdell.com]It is not ornamental; the cost is not great; |
There are things far more useful, |
yet truly I state |
That, of all my possessions, there's none can compare |
With the white leather apron that all Masons wear. |
As a young lad, I wondered just what it meant |
When Dad bustled around and so much time spent |
On shaving and dressing and looking just right |
And Mother would say, "It's the masons tonight". |
And on some winter nights she said, |
"What makes you go Up there tonight |
through the sleet and the snow? |
You see the same things every month of the year." |
Then Dad would reply, "Yes, I know it, my dear." |
"Forty years I have seen the same things it is true; |
But though they are old they always seem new, |
For the hands that I clasp and the friends that I greet |
Seem a little bit closer each time that we meet." |
Years later I stood at the very same door |
With good men and true who had entered before. |
I knelt at the altar and there I was taught |
That virtue and honour can never be bought. |
That the spotless white lambskin that all Masons revere |
If worthily worn, grows more precious each year. |
That service to others brings blessings untold |
And that man may be poor though surrounded by gold. |
I learned that true brotherhood flourishes there, |
That enmities fade 'neath the compass and square; |
That wealth and position are all thrust aside, |
And there, on the level, men greet and abide. |
So honour the Lambskin, may it always remain |
Forever unblemished and free from all stain. |
And when we are called to the Great Father's love, |
May we all take our place in the Grand Lodge above. |