THE TEACHER TO HIS PUPILS. THE NATIONAL MASONIC SCHOOL OF INSTRUCTION, at Louisville, Kentucky, May, 1859, was a scene of great interest to the participants. The assemblage was large and enthusiastic, representing many portions of the country. The writer, as President, made the following his Valedictory of the School: From the hills of old Virginia, from the meadows fat and rare, From the borders of our neighboring states, true neighbors each they stand, You have brought me words of greeting,― words I never can forget;— A goodly group around us! the thoughtful air of Greene- These are the types of all who've sat unwearied 'neath the voice Here, too, those welcome lights have shone, ay, welcome as the sun, To all who work as these work, to all who love like them, To all who build as they build the NEW JERUSALEM, Be wages such as they shall have, when, standing in the West, True, zealous, loving men! on this tempestuous, rocky shore I may not meet — ah, sad to think - not meet or greet you more; Then each FAREWELL! bear homeward LIGHT our fathers well approved, Time will your fond devotion to unending ages tell; God will o'ersee and bless you! Brothers, faithfully, farewell! We whisper good counsel in the ear of a Brother, and in the most tender manner remind him of his faults, and endeavor to aid his reformation; such is the world-wide command. ASK! SEEK!! KNOCK!!! Ask, and ye shall receive; SEEK, ye shall surely find; KNOCK, ye shall no resistance meet, Lay down the bow and spear; Resign the sword and shield; Bring hither thoughts of peace; Bring hither words of love; That cometh from above; For all that KNOCK, and knock aright, ASK help of HIM that's high; SEEK grace of HIM that's true; Will open unto you; For all that ASK, SEEK, KNOCK aright, THE LAST, LAST WORD, "FARE WELL." The last, last word,-oh, let it tell In going out, in coming in; And when to slumber you incline, May man's respect and woman's smile Be yours, be yours, for evermore! SO MOTE IT BE So mote it be with us when life shall end, And from the East the LORD OF LIGHT shall bend And we, our six days' labor fully done, Shall claim our wages at the MASTER'S throne. So mote it be with us; that when the Square, So mote it be with us; that though our days To have the marks our first GRAND MASTER loved! So mote it be with us; we are but weak; Our days are few; our trials who can speak? Let's toil, then, cheerfully, let's die in hope; THE CHAMBER OF IMAGERY. DECLAMATION PRIOR TO A LODGE LECTURE. HAIL, workmen of the mystic labor, hail! To-night let all things that have language speak, -- Where pure instruction beams on every hand; Quaint old imaginings of by-gone days; YON BOOK, whose secret is undying hope; Beneath the earth, our mother, whence we sprung, And in whose bosom we shall sleep at last; All these inspire and move the Poet's heart |