(Here the organist plays softly the strains of "Home, Sweet Home," or some well-known lullaby; during which the Deacon continues):
Ah, it is the old, old melody of youth and home! Again we are around the old hearthstone. Again do we kneel at mother's knee to lisp the evening prayer. Again she takes us in her arms, and sings to her tired child the soft, low lullaby of childhood's happy days.—Oh, Music, Music! Art Divine! Thou dost move and stir the heart as nothing else can do! Yet never canst thy sweet potency be better used than when it inspires praise and gratitude to the great Lord and Master of us all!
(At the word "all," the organist promptly strikes the chords of "Old Hundred," and, to its accompaniment, the Master calling up the Lodge, all unite in singing the long-metre doxology.)
This brings us to the outer door of the M. C., which we find partly open, but strictly tiled by the J. W. We will see if we can gain admission.
J. W.: "Who comes here?"
"A young F. C., on his way to the M. C. to have his name enrolled among the workmen and to be taught the wages of a F. C."
"How do you expect to pass the outer door?"
"By the * * * and * * * of a F. C."
"Give them."