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You, whose exit
wraps in boundless woe,
For Thee the tears of various Masons flow :
For Thee the floods of virtuous sorrows rise
From the full heart and burst from streaming eyes,
Far from our view to Heaven's eternal height,
The Seat of bliss divine and glory bright ;
Far from the restless turbulence of life,
The war of factions, and impassion'd strife
From every ill
Safe in Celestial Lodge secur'd.
The Lodge mourns the afflicting Hand divine
That now forbids thy radiant lamp to shine,
Which, like the
sun, resplendent source of light
Diffus'd its beams, and chear'd our gloom of night.
What heartfelt sorrow in each brotherís breast
With keen sensation rends the heart distress'd !
sustains a tenderer part,
And mourns a Brother with a Brotherís heart.
The Lodge laments her Past Master fled
To the cold mansions of the silent dead.
There hush'd forever, cease the heavenly strain,
That wak'd the soul, but here resounds in vain.
Still live thy merits, where thy name is known,
As the sweet Rose, its blooming beauty gone
Retains its fragrance with a long perfume :
Thus G.S, thy death-less name shall bloom
Unfading, in the Lodge and countryís love,
While Winter frowns, or spring renews the grove.
The hapless Muse,
her loss in him mourns,
And as she sits, she writes, and weeps, by turns ;
A brother sincere, whose mild indulgent grace
Encourag'd oft, and oft approv'd her lays.
With all their charms, terrestrial objects strove,
But vain their pleasures to attract his love.
Such G.S was -- -at Heaven's high call he flies ;
His talk well finish'd, to his native skies.
Yet to his fate reluctant we resign,
Tho' our's to copy conduct such as thine :
Such was thy wish, th' observant Muse survey'd
Thy latest breath, and this advice convey'd.