(This fine poem is given by Goethe amongst a small collection of what he calls Loge (Lodge), meaning thereby Masonic pieces.)

THE mason's trade                Observe them well,

Resembles life,                        And watch them revealing

With all its strife,--                 How solemn feeling
Is like the stir made                And wonderment swell

 By 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 high

Unterrified                             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 eterne

Hangs heavier still.                 Here chaplets are twin'd,

Deep slumbers fill                   That each noble mind
The stars over-head,               Its guerdon may earn.--

And the foot-trodden grave.   Then hope ye for ever!"


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