Thank God, of good the giver!
Shout it, sportive breeze!
Respond, oh, tuneful river!
To the nodding tees.
Thank Him, bud and birdling!
As ye grow and sing!
Mingle in thanksgiving
Every living thing!
Thank God, with cheerful spirit,
In a glow of love,
For what we here inherit,
And our hopes above!—
Universal Nature
Revels in her birth,
When God, in pleasant weather,
Smiles upon the earth!
The Master's Song.
Written for the freemasons of St. John's Lodge No. 1, New York.
Members of an order
Ancient as the earth;
All within our border
Realize its worth.
Genial is the greeting
That awaits us there,
On the level meeting,
Parting on the square.
Like the workmen olden,
Who our craft designed,
We the precept golden
Ever bear in mind.
Masons never falter,
We each other know,
As around the altar
Hand in hand we go;
Loud hosannas singing
To our Source above,
And heart-offerings bringing
To the God of Love.
Like the workmen olden,
Who our craft designed,
We the precept golden
Ever bear in mind.
There's a mystic beauty
In our working plan,
Teaching man his duty
To his fellow man:
As a band of brothers,
Ever just and true,
Do we unto others
As we'd have them do.
Like the workmen olden,
Who our craft designed,
We the precept golden
Ever bear in mind.
The Missing Ship.
She left the port in gallant style,
With sails and streamers full and free!
I watched her course for many a mile
Far out upon the distant sea!
At dusk she lessened to a speck,
And then I could not trace her more!
Sad hearts were beating on her deck,
Sad hearts were beating on the shore.
Two of the outward bound I knew,
One beautiful, the other brave—
The master worthy, and the crew
Born to contend with wind and wave:
For travel some, and some for gain,
And some for health had gone abroad;
Our prayers were with them on the main,
God-speed the ship and all on board!