We've done no more to-day for our sick friend
Than we shall keep on doing to the end;
In our freemasonry there's this relief,
We share life's triumphs—but we share its grief.
Nor for ourselves in thanks we stretch our hand,
But for the stricken soldier of our band;
You found him sorrowing, and gave him ease,
A sight of home and country, waving trees,
And all the blest retirement, deep and wild,
That soothes the body, helpless as a child!