Table of Contents

It is not ornamental, the cost is not great,
There are other things far more useful, yet truly I state,
Though of all my possesions, there's none can compare,
With that white leather apron, which all Masons wear.

As a young lad I wondered just what it all meant,
When Dad hustled around, and so much time was spent
On shaving and dressing and looking just right,
Until Mother would say: "It's the Masons tonight."

And some winter nights she said: "What makes you go,
Way up there tonight thru the sleet and the snow?
You see the same things every month of the year."
Then Dad would reply: "Yes, I know it, my dear."

"Forty years I have seen the same things, it is true.
And though they are old, they always seem new,
For the hands that I clasp, and the friends that I greet,
Seem a little bit closer each time that we meet."

Years later I stood at that very same door,
With good men and true who had entered before,
I knelt at the alter, and there I was taught
That virtue and honor can never be bought.

That the spotless white lambskin all Masons revere,
If worthily worn grows more precious each year,
That service to others brings blessings untold,
That man may be poor tho surrounded by gold.

I learned that true brotherhood flourishes there,
That enmities fade 'neath the compass and square,
That wealth and position are all thrust aside,
As there on the level men meet and abide.

So, honor the lambskin, may it always remain
Forever unblemished, and free from all stain,
And when we are called to the Great Father's love,
May we all take our place in that Lodge up above.

You may delve down to rock for your foundation piers,
You may go with your steel to the sky
You may purchase the best of the thought of the years,
And the finest of workmanship buy.
You may line with the rarest of marble each hall,
And with gold you may tint it; but then
It is only a building if it, after all,
Isn't filled with the spirit of men.

You may put up a structure of brick and of stone,
Such as never was put up before;
Place there the costliest woods that are grown,
And carve every pillar and door.
You may fill it with splendors of quarry and mine,
With the glories of brush and of pen —
But it's only a building, though ever so fine,
If it hasn't the spirit of men.

You may build such structure that lightning can't harm,
Or one that an earthquake can't raze;
You may build it of granite, and boast that its charm
Shall last to the end of all days.
But you might as well never have builded at all,
Never cleared off the bog and the fen,
If, after it's finished, its sheltering wall
Doesn't stand for the spirit of men.

For it isn't the marble, nor is it the stone
Nor is it the columns of steel,
By which is the worth of an edifice known;
But it's something that's living and real.

Wherever you may chance to be — wherever you may roam,
Far away in foreign lands; or just at home sweet home;
It always gives you pleasure, it makes your heart strings hum

Just to hear

The words of cheer,

"I see you've travelled some."

When you get a brother’s greeting, and he takes you by the hand,
It thrills you with a feeling that you cannot understand,
You feel that bond of brotherhood, that tie that’s sure to come

When you hear him say

In a friendly way

"I see you've travelled some."

And if you are a stranger, in strange lands all alone
If fate has left you stranded, dead broke and far from home,
Oh, it's a grand and glorious feeling, it thrills you; makes you numb,

When he says with a grip

Of fellowship,

"I see you've travelled some."

And when your final summons comes, to take a last long trip,
Adorned with Lambskin Apron White and gems of fellowship —
The Tiler at the Golden Gate, with Square and Level and Plumb

Will size up your pin

And say "Walk In:

I see you've travelled some."

The world is needing you and me,
In places where we ought to be;
Somewhere today it’s needing you
To stand for what you know is true.
And needing me somewhere today.
To keep the faith, let come what may.

The world needs honest men today
To lead its youth along the way,
Men who will write in all their deeds
The beauty of their spoken creeds,
And spurn advantage here and gain,
On which deceit must leave its stain.

The world needs men who will not brag,
Men who will honor Freedom’s Flag,
Men, who although the way is hard,
Against the lure of shame will guard,
The world needs gentle men and true
And calls aloud to me and you.

The world needs men of lofty aim,
Not merely men of skill and fame,
Not merely leaders wise and grave,
Or learned men or soldiers brave,
But men whose lives are fair to see,
Such men as you and I can be.

When I'm weary of argument wordy
And tired of continuous debate,
When the speaker like some hurdy gurdy,
Which carries on early and late,
Keeps up a monotonous bellow
On lessons I don't want to learn,
'Tis then I give cheers for the fellow
Who rises and moves to adjourn.

There are motions to lay on the table,
There are motions for this and for that,
And I stick just as long as I'm able
And hark to the chatterer’s chat,
I stand for the rising thanks motion
For the one who has done a good turn,
But my friend is the chap with the notion
To get up and move to adjourn.

There are some who like papers and speeches,
And open discussions of things,
The heights some new orator reaches,
The lesson and message he brings.
But each his own fancy must cling to,
What one chooses others may spurn,
So this simple tribute I sing to
The brother who moves to adjourn!

These next three are all basically the same poem. First is a Masonic variation. Whether Guest was responsible for this or not is anyone's guess, but since Guest was a Mason, he would probably approve of it, even if he didn't write it himself. The second is the version normally printed. Third, just as a curiosity, is an interesting song by a Western/Christian singer which expands on Guest's poem in a pleasant way.
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Show Me!

I would rather see a Mason, than hear one any day,
I would rather one would walk with me than merely show the way.
The eye's a better pupil and more willing than the ear,
Fine counsel is confusing, but example's always clear.
And the best of all the Masons are the men who live their creeds,
For to see the good in action is what everybody needs.

I can soon learn how to do it if you'll let me see it done,
I can watch your hands in action, but your tongue too fast may run.
And the lectures you deliver may be wise and true,
But I'd rather get my lesson by observing what you do.
For I may misunderstand you and the high advice you give,
But there's no misunderstanding how you act and how you live.

See note above.

I'd Rather See A Sermon

I'd rather see a sermon than hear one any day;
I'd rather one should walk with me than merely tell the way.
The eye's a better pupil, more willing than the ear;
Fine counsel is confusing, but example's always clear,
And the best of all the preachers are the men who live their creeds,
For to see good put in action is what everybody needs.

I can soon learn how to do it if you will let me see it done;
I can watch your hands in action, but your tongue too fast may run.
The lectures you deliver may be very wise and true,
But I'd rather get my lesson by observing what you do.
For I may misunderstand you and the high advice you give,
But there is no misunderstanding how you act and how you live.

When I see a deed of kindness, I am eager to be kind.
When a weaker brother stumbles, and a strong man stands behind
Just to see if he can help him, then the wish grows strong in me
To become as big and thoughtful as I know that friend to be.
And all travelers can witness that the best of guides today
Is not the one who tells them, but the one who shows the way.

One good man teaches many; men believe what they behold;
One deed of kindness noted is worth forty that are told.
Who stands with men of honor learns to hold his honor dear,
For right living speaks a language which to everyone is clear.
Though an able speaker charms me with his eloquence, I say,
I'd rather see a sermon than hear one any day.

See note above.

I'd Rather See A Sermon

by Bruce Carroll

I'd see him go to church almost every Sunday,

He had invited me to go a time or two,

Made no bones about the fact that he was a Christian,

And he seemed to know I was looking for some truth.

Never looked at me with eyes of condemnation,

Though he knew I was uneasy when he'd pray.

He was always there to lend a hand, and when he did he'd always say

That the good Lord and His blessing are what made him act that way

Chorus

I'd rather see a sermon than to hear one anyday.
I'd rather one would walk with me, than merely show the way.
Actions speak much louder than all the words can say —
That's why I'd rather see a sermon, than hear one any day.

There were times that I would see him from a distance,

And he didn't know that I was watching him.

He always took the time to love his children,

And he treated his wife like his best friend.

I got the call two weeks ago this Monday,

That the job I'd had ten years was at the end.

He was the first to call and show up on my doorstep,

And he said that he would be there, till we got on our feet again

Chorus

I'd rather see a sermon than to hear one anyday.
I'd rather one would walk with me, than merely show the way.
Actions speak much louder than all the words can say —
That's why I'd rather see a sermon, than hear one any day.

I never was much for religon,

Too many double-standard people let me down;

But the message this man lived was very simple

He showed me what I needed, and he was there

When I let Jesus turn my life around

Chorus

I'd rather see a sermon than to hear one anyday.
I'd rather one would walk with me, than merely show the way.
Actions speak much louder than all the words can say —
That's why I'd rather see a sermon, than hear one any day.

That's why I'd rather see a sermon than hear one any day.

A Real Man

Men are of two kinds, and he
Was of the kind I'd like to be.
Some preach their virtues, and a few
Express their lives by what they do.
That sort was he. No flowery phrase
Or glibly spoken words of praise
Won friends for him. He wasn't cheap
Or shallow, but his course ran deep,
And it was pure. You know the kind.
Not many in a life you find
Whose deeds outrun their words so far
That more than what they seem they are.

There are two kinds of lies as well:
The kind you live, the ones you tell.
Back through his years from age to youth
He never acted one untruth.
Out in the open light he fought
And didn't care what others thought
Nor what they said about his fight
If he believed that he was right.
The only deeds he ever hid
Were acts of kindness that he did.

What speech he had was plain and blunt.
His was an unattractive front.
Yet children loved him; babe and boy
Played with the strength he could employ,
Without one fear, and they are fleet
To sense injustice and deceit.
No back door gossip linked his name
With any shady tale of shame.
He did not have to compromise
With evil-doers, shrewd and wise,
And let them ply their vicious trade
Because of some past escapade.

Men are of two kinds, and he
Was of the kind I'd like to be.
No door at which he ever knocked
Against his manly form was locked.
If ever man on earth was free
And independent, it was he.
No broken pledge lost him respect,
He met all men with head erect,
And when he passed, I think there went
A soul to yonder firmament
So white, so splendid and so fine
It came almost to God's design.

He Who Serves

He has not served who gathers gold,
Nor has he served, whose life is told
In selfish battles he has won,
Or deeds of skill that he has done;
But he has served who now and then
Has helped along his fellow men.

The world needs many men today;
Red-blooded men along life's way,
With cheerful smiles and helping hands,
And with the faith that understands
The beauty of the simple deed
Which serves another's hour of need.

Strong men to stand beside the weak,
Kind men to hear what others speak;
True men to keep our country's laws
And guard its honor and its cause;
Men who will bravely play life's game
Nor ask rewards of gold and fame.

Teach me to do the best I can
To help and cheer our fellow man;
Teach me to lose my selfish need
And glory in the larger deed
Which smoothes the road, and lights the day
For all who chance to come my way.

Be A Friend

Be a friend. You don't need money:
Just a disposition sunny;
Just the wish to help another
Get along some way or other;
Just a kindly hand extended
Out to one who’s unbefriended;
Just the will to give or lend,
This will make you someone’s friend.

Be a friend. You don't need glory.
Friendship is a simple story.
Pass by trifling errors blindly,
Gaze on honest effort kindly,
Cheer the youth who’s bravely trying,
Pity him who’s sadly sighing;
Just a little labor spend
On the duties of a friend.

Be a friend. The pay is bigger
(Though not written by a figure)
Than is earned by people clever
In what’s merely self-endeavor.
You'll have friends instead of neighbors
For the profits of your labors;
You'll be richer in the end
Than a prince, if you're a friend.

This was probably Guest's most popular poem.

It Couldn't Be Done

Somebody said that it couldn't be done,
But he with a chuckle replied
That "maybe it couldnt," but he would be one
Who wouldn't say so till he'd tried.
So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin
On his face. If he worried he hid it.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn't be done, and he did it.

Somebody scoffed: "Oh, you'll never do that;
At least no one ever has done it";
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat,
And the first thing we knew he'd begun it.
With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
Without any doubting or quiddit,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn't be done, and he did it.

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
There are thousands to prophesy failure;
There are thousands to point out to you one by one,
The dangers that wait to assail you.
But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,
Just take off your coat and go to it;
Just start in to sing as you tackle the thing
That "cannot be done," and you'll do it.

The Real Successes

You think that the failures are many,
You think the successes are few,
But you judge by the rule of the penny,
And not by the good that men do.
You judge men by standards of treasure
That merely obtain upon earth,
When the brother you're snubbing may measure
Full-length to God’s standard of worth.

The failures are not in the ditches,
The failures are not in the ranks,
They have missed the acquirement of riches
Their fortunes are not in the banks.
Their virtues are never paraded,
Their worth is not always in view,
But they're fighting their battles unaided
And fighting them honestly, too.

There are failures to-day in high places
The failures aren't all in the low;
There are rich men with scorn in their faces
Whose homes are but castles of woe.
The homes that are happy are many,
And numberless fathers are true;
And this is the standard, if any,
By which we must judge what men do.

Wherever loved ones are awaiting
The toiler to kiss and caress,
Though in Bradstreet’s he hasn't a rating,
He still is a splendid success.
If the dear ones who gather about him
And know what he’s striving to do
Have never a reason to doubt him,
Is he less successful than you?

You think that the failures are many,
You judge by men’s profits in gold;
You judge by the rule of the penny —
In this true success isn't told.
This falsely man’s story is telling,
For wealth often brings on distress,.
But wherever love brightens a dwelling,
There lives, rich or poor, a success.

Results And Roses

The man who wants a garden fair,

Or small or very big,

With flowers growing here and there,

Must bend his back and dig.

The things are mighty few on earth

That wishes can attain.

Whate'er we want of any worth

We've got to work to gain.

It matters not what goal you seek

Its secret here reposes:

You've got to dig from week to week

To get Results or Roses.

Grace At Evening

For all the beauties of the day,
The innocence of childhood’s play,
For health and strength and laughter sweet,
Dear Lord, our thanks we now repeat.

For this our daily gift of food
We offer now our gratitude,
For all the blessings we have known
Our debt of gratefulness we own.

Here at the table now we pray,
Keep us together down the way;
May this, our family circle, be
Held fast by love and unity.

Grant, when the shades of night shall fall,
Sweet be the dreams of one and all;
And when another day shall break
Unto Thy service may we wake.

Compensation

I'd like to think when life is done

That I had filled a needed post.

That here and there I'd paid my fare

With more than idle talk and boast;

That I had taken gifts divine.

The breath of life and manhood fine,

And tried to use them now and then

In service for my fellow men.

I'd hate to think when life is through

That I had lived my round of years

A useless kind, that leaves behind

No record in this vale of tears;

That I had wasted all my days

By treading only selfish ways,

And that this world would be the same

If it had never known my name.

I'd like to think that here and there,

When I am gone, there shall remain

A happier spot that might have not

Existed had I toiled for gain;

That someone's cheery voice and smile

Shall prove that I had been worth while;

That I had paid with something fine

My debt to God for life divine.

My Creed

To live as gently as I can;
To be, no matter where, a man;
To take what comes of good or ill
And cling to faith and honor still;
To do my best, and let that stand
The record of my brain and hand;
And then, should failure come to me
Still work and hope for victory.

To have no secret place wherein
I stoop unseen to shame or sin;
To be the same when I'm alone
As when my every deed is known;
To live undaunted, unafraid
Of any step that I have made;
To be without pretense or sham,
Exactly what men think I am.

To leave some simple mark behind,
To keep my having lived in mind;
If enmity to aught I show,
To be an honest, generous foe,
To play my little part, nor whine
That greater honors are not mine.
This, I believe, is all I need
For my philosophy and creed.

If You Would Please Me

If you would please me when I've passed away

Let not your grief embitter you. Be brave;

Turn with full courage from my mounded grave

And smile upon the children at their play;

Let them make merry in their usual way;

Do not with sorrow those young lives enslave

Or steal from them the fleeting joys they crave;

Let not your grieving spoil their happy day.

Live on as you have lived these many years,

Still let your soul be gentle and be kind —

I never liked to see those eyes in tears!

Weep not too much that you must stay behind;

Share in the lives of others as you'd share,

If God had willed it still to leave me there.

Edgar Albert Guest (1881-1959)

The following is condensed from the biography and bibliography at Representative Poetry On-line, with added notes from the G.L.of B.C.&Y. website.
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Born in Birmingham, England, on August 20, 1881, Edgar A. Guest settled with his family in Detroit in 1891. Starting in 1895 as a copy boy at the Detroit Free Press, Guest worked his way up as police reporter, exchange editor, and verse columnist. His first column began weekly in 1904 and eventually became the daily "Breakfast Table Chat," which was ultimately syndicated to 300 newspapers throughout the United States. On June 28, 1906, Guest and Nellie Crossman married, a union which would produce two children.

Guest authored over 20 volumes of poetry. He was thought to have penned over 15,000 poems in his lifetime, one a day from 1916 to 1959. His fourth volume of poetry, A Heap o' Livin' (1916), reputedly sold more than one million copies; his Collected Verse (1934) went into at least 11 editions.

Eddie was not only a writer, but also an entertainer. Previous generations of poets had often been platform speakers, and in that tradition Eddie broadcast weekly from Chicago on NBC radio from 1931 to 1942. In 1951 NBC broadcast his series "A Guest in Your Home" on television. At his death on August 5, 1959, he was affectionately called "the Poet of the People" because he wrote of everyday family lives with deep sentimentality.

He said in a 1947 article about him: "Masonry has greatly enriched my life. It has given me friendships that I cherish dearly. It has, I think, whispered subconsciously to me in the silent hours, words of caution and encouragement. I like going back to my lodge. I have found it refreshing and good to step aside out of the path of my busy life and sit again with the Masons who have carried on in my absence."