S. Warden: Our life is but a span long, and the days of our pilgrimage are few and full of evil.
J. Warden: So teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.
Master: Man goeth forth to his work and to his labor until the evening of his day. The labor and work of our brother are finished. As it hath pleased Almighty God to take the soul of our departed brother, may he find mercy in the great day when all men shall be judged according to the deeds done in the body. We must walk in the light while we have light; for the darkness of death may come upon us at a time when we may not be prepared. Take heed, therefore, watch and pray; for ye know not when the time is; ye know not when the Master cometh—at even, at midnight, or in the morning. We should so regulate our lives by the line of rectitude and truth that in the evening of our days we may be found worthy to be called from labor to refreshment, and duly prepared for a translation from the terrestrial to the celestial Lodge, to join the Fraternity of the spirits of just men made perfect.
S. Warden: Behold, O Lord, we are in distress! Our hearts are turned within us; there is none to comfort us; our sky is darkened with clouds, and mourning and lamentations are heard among us.
J. Warden: Our life is a vapor that appeareth for a little while, and then vanisheth away. All flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away.
Master—It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting; for that is the end of all men; and the living will lay it to his heart.
Response: So mote it be.
Ode—Air, Naomi.
Here Death his sacred seal hath set,
On bright and by-gone hours;
The dead we mourn are with us yet,
And—more than ever—ours!
Ours, by the pledge of love and faith;
By hopes of heaven on high;
By trust, triumphant over death,
In immortality.