It isn't the due guard, nor is it the sign,
It isn't the jewel, which hangs on your breast,
It isn't the apron, in which you are dressed,
It isn't the step, nor the token or the grip,
Nor the lectures that fluently flow from the lip,
Nor yet the possession of that mystic word,
On five points of fellowship duly conferred.
Through these are essential, desirable, fine,
They don't make you a Mason, O Brother of Mine.
That you to your sworn obligation are true-
'Tis, that, brother mine, makes a Mason of you.
Secure in your heart you must safeguard your trust,
With Lodge and with brother be honest and just,
Assist the deserving who cry in their need,
Be chaste in thought, in your word and deed,
Support him who falters; with hope banish fear,
And whisper advice in an erring one's ear.
Then will the Great Lights on your path brightly shine,
And you'll be a Mason, O Brother of mine.
Your use of life's hours by the gauge you must try,
The gavel to vices with courage applies;
Your walk must be upright, as shown by the plump,
On the level, to bourn whence no travellers come;
The book of your faith be the rule and guide,
The compass your passions shut safely inside;
The stone which the Architect placed in your care
Must pass the strict test of his unerring square,
And then you will meet with approval divine,
And you will be a Mason, O Brother of mine.