(This fine poem is given by Goethe amongst a small collection of what he calls Loge (Lodge), meaning thereby Masonic pieces.)THE mason's tradeObserve them well,Resembles life, And watch them revealingWith all its strife,-- How solemn feeling Is like the stir madeAnd wonderment swellBy man on earth's face. The hearts of the brave.
Though weal and woe The voice of the blest,The future may hide, And of spirits on highUnterrified Seems loudly to cry:
We onward go "To do what is best,In ne'er changing race. Unceasing endeavour!
A veil of dread "In silence eterneHangs heavier still. Here chaplets are twin'd,Deep slumbers fillThat each noble mind The stars over-head, Its guerdon may earn.--And the foot-trodden grave. Then hope ye for ever!"1827.*
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