Prayer.
Almighty and most merciful Father, we adore Thee as the God of time and eternity. As it hath pleased Thee to take from the light of our abode one dear to our hearts, we beseech Thee to bless and sanctify unto us this dispensation of Thy providence. Inspire our hearts with wisdom from on high, that we may glorify Thee in all our ways. May we realize that Thine All-Seeing Eye is upon us, and be influenced by the spirit of truth and love to perfect obedience—that we may enjoy Thy divine approbation here below. And when our toils on earth shall have ended, may we be raised to the enjoyment of fadeless light and immortal life in that kingdom where faith and hope shall end, and love and joy prevail through eternal ages. And Thine, O righteous Father, shall be the glory forever. Amen.
Response: So mote it be.
The following exhortation is then given by the Master:
The solemn notes that betoken the dissolution of this earthly tabernacle have again alarmed our outer door, and another spirit has been summoned to the land where our fathers have gone before us.
Again we are called to assemble among the habitations of the dead, to behold the "narrow house appointed for all living." Here, around us, in that peace which the world cannot give or take away, sleep the unnumbered dead. The gentle breeze fans their verdant covering, they heed it not; the sunshine and the storm pass over them, and they are not disturbed; stones and lettered monuments symbolize the affection of surviving friends, yet no sound proceeds from them, save that silent but thrilling admonition, "Seek ye the narrow path and the straight gate that lead unto eternal life."
We are again called upon to consider the uncertainty of human life, the immutable certainty of death, and the vanity of all human pursuits. Decrepitude and decay are written upon every living thing. The cradle and the coffin stand in juxtaposition to each other; and it is a melancholy truth that so soon as we begin to live, that moment we also begin to die. It is passing strange that, notwithstanding the daily mementos of mortality that cross our path—notwithstanding the funeral bells so often toll in our ears and the "mournful processions" go about our streets—we will not more seriously consider our approaching fate. We go on from design to design, add hope to hope, and lay out plans for the employment of many years, until we are suddenly alarmed at the approach of the Messenger of Death, at a moment when we least expect him, and which we probably conclude to be the meridian of our existence.
What, then, are all the externals of human dignity—the power of wealth, the dreams of ambition, the pride of intellect, or the charms of beauty—when Nature has paid her just debt? Fix your eyes on the last sad scene, and view life stripped of its ornaments, and exposed in its natural weakness, and you must be persuaded of the utter emptiness of these delusions. In the grave, all fallacies are detected, all ranks are leveled, all distinctions are done away. Here the scepter of the prince and the staff of the beggar are laid side by side.
Our present meeting and proceedings will have been vain and useless, if they fail to excite our serious reflections, and strengthen our resolutions of amendment.
Be then persuaded, my brethren, by this example of the uncertainty of human life, of the unsubstantial nature of all its pursuits, and no longer postpone the all-important concern of preparing for eternity. Let us each embrace the present moment, and while time and opportunity permit, prepare for that great change when the pleasures of the world be as a poison to our lips, and the happy reflections consequent upon a well-spent life afford the only consolation.
Thus shall our hopes be not frustrated, nor we be hurried unprepared into the presence of that all-wise and powerful Judge, to whom the secrets of all hearts are known. Let us resolve to maintain with sincerity the dignified character of our profession. May our Faith be evinced in a correct moral walk and deportment; may our Hope be bright as the glorious mysteries that will be revealed hereafter; and our Charity boundless as the wants of our fellow-creatures. And, having faithfully discharged the great duties which we owe to God, to our neighbor, and to ourselves, when at last it shall please the Grand Master of the Universe to summon us into His eternal presence, may the Trestle-board of our whole lives pass such inspection that it may be given unto each of us to "eat of the hidden manna," and to receive the "white stone with a new name" that will insure perpetual and unspeakable happiness at His right hand.
The Lambskin being removed from the coffin, the Master holds it up and says:
W. M.: The Lambskin, or white leathern Apron, is an emblem of innocence and the badge of a Mason; more ancient than the Golden Fleece or Roman Eagle; more honorable than Star and Garter, when worthily worn. This emblem I now deposit in the grave of our deceased brother. [Deposits it.] By it we are reminded of that purity of life and conduct so essentially necessary to gaining admission to the Celestial Lodge above, where the Supreme Architect of the Universe presides.
The mattock, the coffin, and the melancholy grave admonish us of our mortality, and that, sooner or later, these frail bodies must moulder in their parent dust.
The Master, holding the evergreen, continues:
This evergreen, which once marked the temporary resting-place of the illustrious dead, is an emblem of our faith in the immortality of the soul. By it we are reminded that we have an immortal part within us, that shall survive the grave, and which shall never, never, never die. By it we are admonished that, though, like our brother whose remains lie before us, we shall soon be clothed in the habiliments of death, and deposited in the silent tomb, yet, through our belief in the mercy of God, we may confidently hope that our souls will bloom in eternal spring. This, too, I deposit in the grave.
The brethren then move in procession round the place of interment, and severally drop the sprig of evergreen into the grave, during which the following may be sung:
Funeral Dirge.
Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound!
Mine ears attend the cry:
"Ye living men, come view the ground
Where you must shortly lie.
"Princes! this clay must be your bed,
In spite of all your towers;
The tall, the wise, the reverend head,
Must lie as low as ours."
Great God! Is this our certain doom?
And are we still secure?
Still walking downward to the tomb,
And yet prepared no more?
Grant us the power of quick'ning grace,
To fit our souls to fly;
Then, when we drop this dying flesh,
We'll rise above the sky.
Or the following:
Pleyel's Hymn.
Solemn strikes the fun'ral chime,
Notes of our departing time;
As we journey here below
Through a pilgrimage of woe.
Mortals, now indulge a tear,
For mortality is here!
See how wide her trophies wave
O'er the slumbers of the grave!
Here another guest we bring!
Seraphs of celestial wing,
To our funeral altar come,
Waft our friend and brother home.
Lord of all! below—above—
Fill our hearts with truth and love;
When dissolves our earthly tie
Take us to Thy Lodge on high.
After which the Masonic funeral honors are given.
The Grand Honors, practiced among Masons at funerals, whether in public or private, are given in the following manner: Both arms are crossed on the breast, the left uppermost, and the open palms of the hands sharply striking the shoulders; they are then raised above the head, the palms striking each other, and then made to fall smartly upon the thighs. This is repeated three times, and while they are being given the third time, the brethren audibly pronounce the following words—when the arms are crossed on the breast: "We cherish his memory here;" when the hands are extended above the head: "We commend his spirit to God who gave it;" and when the hands are extended toward the ground: "And consign his body to the grave."
The Master then continues the ceremony:
The Great Creator, having been pleased to remove our brother from the cares and troubles of this transitory existence to a state of endless duration, thus severing another link from the fraternal chain that binds us together, may we who survive him be more strongly cemented in the ties of union and friendship; and, during the short space allotted us here, we may wisely and usefully employ our time, and, in the reciprocal intercourse of kind and friendly acts, mutually promote the welfare and happiness of each other.
Unto the grave we now consign his body—earth to earth; ashes to ashes; dust to dust—there to remain until the trump shall sound on the Resurrection morn. We can trustfully leave him in the hands of Him who doeth all things well, who is "glorious in holiness, fearful in praises, doing wonders."
To those of his immediate relatives and friends who are most heart-stricken at the loss we have all sustained, we have but little of this world's consolation to offer; we can only sincerely, deeply and most affectionately sympathize with them in their afflictive bereavement; but we can say, that He who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb looks down with infinite compassion upon the widow and fatherless in the hour of their desolation; and that the Great Architect will fold the arms of His love and protection around those who put their trust in Him.
Then let us improve this solemn warning, so that, when the sheeted dead are stirring, when the great white throne is set, we shall receive from the Omniscient Judge the thrilling invitation, "Come, ye blessed, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world."
The services will close with the following or some other suitable prayer: