It was a happy thought
To have these gavels wrought
By the old Tyler, for the honored Craft;
Though placed without the door,
To make the Lodge secure,
You know him as a bright and polished shaft.

How many a year he's stood,
Old Schreiner, brave and good,
And guarded you while secret works went on!
How many a Brother's dead,
Since first his honored head
Was seen amongst you in the early June.

Can you forget him? No;
His earthly form may go,
His kindly smile be hidden in the sod;
But when those gavels ring,
Fond memories they will bring
Of the old Tyler gone to rest with God.

Then let his gavels sound
At every annual round,
And when you hear them think of him that gave;
'Tis but a fleeting day,
And then the Craft will say,
" The Lodge has joined old Schreiner in the grave! "

A knock will yet be heard,
The sheeted dead be stirred,
With all that are and have been we shall rise;
Oh, may each Brother come,
Thus summoned from his tomb,
And share eternal glory in the skies!