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THE LAMB SKIN
By Edgar A. Guest
It is not ornamental, the cost
is not great,
There are other things
far more useful, yet
truly I state,
Tho of all my
possessions, there's
none can compare,
With that white leather
apron, which all Masons
wear.
As a young lad I
wondered just what it
all meant,
When Dad hustled around,
and so much time was
spent
On shaving and dressing
and looking just right,
Until Mother would say:
"It's the Masons
tonight."
And some winter nights
she said: "What makes
you go,
Way up there tonight
thru the sleet and the
snow,
You see the same things
every month of the
year."
Then Dad would reply:
"Yes, I know it, my
dear."
Forty years I have seen
the same things, it is
true.
And though they are old,
they always seem new,
For the hands that I
clasp, and the friends
that I greet,
Seem a little bit closer
each time that we meet."
Years later I stood at
that very same door,
With good men and true
who had entered before,
I knelt at the alter,
and there I was taught
That virtue and honor
can never be bought.
That the spotless white
lambskin all Masons
revere,
If worthily worn grows
more precious each year,
That service to others
brings blessings untold,
That man may be poor tho
surrounded by gold.
I learned that true
brotherhood flourishes
there,
That enmities fade 'neath
the compass and square,
That wealth and position
are all thrust aside,
As there on the level
men meet and abide.
So, honor the lambskin,
may it always remain
Forever unblemished, and
free from all stain,
And when we are called
to the Great Father's
love,
May we all take our
place in that Lodge up
above.
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