Rich is song when tuned to passion,
Love, benevolence, or joy —
Vast its power, and blest its mission; —
Saints in Heaven the notes employ;
Heaven itself resounds with song,
Tuned by an unnumbered throng.

But its power is best extended,
When, to bless the Sons OF T OIL ,
Masons' joys with songs are blended,
Rhyming Corn and Wine and Oil;
Then it thrills the inner sense,
Driving gloomy shadows hence.

Sister, from your heart are welling
Thoughts attuned to sweetest song!
But the sweetest yet are telling
Of the ancient Mason-throng;
Telling of its T ENETS three,
F AITH , and H OPE , and C HARITY !

Still to us your muse be given —
Ours the genial spirit-birth;
Sing the Sabbath rest of Heaven,
Sing the six days toil of earth,
Festive joys, and sacred grief,
Love fraternal, truth, relief.

Then, when death his object gaining,
Stills the answer of your lyre,
These the gems of song remaining,
Other genius shall inspire,
And the Craft, in deathless lays,
Shall embalm their Poet's praise.