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Father's Lodge

Anonymous

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 greetings, winter ice or summer rain.

Father's lodge thought nothing of it; amid 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 caught the gleaming of the great Masonic past;
Thinking, toiling, daring, dreaming, they were builders to the last.
Quiet men, not rich nor clever, with the tools they found a hand;
Building for a great forever; first a village, then a land.

Father's lodge it was no temple, built 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.