The Old Masters Wages

by M.W.Bro. Neil Neddermeyer

I meet a dear old man today

Who wore a Masonic pin,

It was old and faded like the man

Its edges were worn quite thin

I approached the park bench where he sat

To give the old brother his do

I said, "I see you’ve traveled east"

He said, "I have, have you?"

I said, I have and in my day

Before the all seeing sun

I played in the rubble with Jubala

Jubilo, and Jubalum.

He shouted, don’t laugh at the work my boy

It’s good and it's sweet and it's true

And if you’ve traveled as you said

You should give these things a due.

The word, the sign, the token,

The sweet Masonic prayer,

The vow that all have taken

Who have climbed the inner stair.

The wages of a Mason

are never paid in gold

but the gain comes from contentment

When you’re weak and growing old.

You see I’ve carried my obligations

For almost fifty years

It has helped me through the hardships

and the failures full of tears.

I’m now losing my mind and my body

Death is near but I don’t despair

I’ve lived my life upon the level

And I’m die upon the square.

Sometimes the greatest lessons

Are those that are learned anew

And the old man in the park today

Has changed my point of view.

To all Masonic brothers

The only secret is to care

May you live upon the level.

May you part upon the square