As a boy I often wondered just what it all meant
When Dad hustled around and much time was spent,
On dressing and shaving and looking just right,
Until mother would say, "It's the Masons tonight."

And sometimes in the winter she'd say, "Oh Dad must you go
To the Lodge tonight through the sleet and the snow.
You see these same things many times in the year.".
And Dad would reply, "Yes I know that my dear.

For forty years now I've seen these same things it's true
Yet each time I see them they seem just like 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.
Within I knelt at the altar 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 treasures untold,
And a man can be poor though surrounded by gold.

I learned that true brotherhood flourishes there.
That enmity fades neath the compass and square.
That wealth and position are both thrust aside
When men meet on the level and there they abide.