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By Franklin Cable

O God of ages look tonight

Upon Thy Craftsman; let Thy light

Burn on the alters of their heart,

And fit him for the Masons art,


That light pales near the brightest star,

And leaps and void of spaces far

To crown with beauty morning sky -

And evening hills to glorify






It matters not whate'er your lot Or what your task may be,

One duty there remains for you One duty stands for me.

Be you a doctor skilled and wise, Or do your work for wage,

A laborer upon the street, An artist on the stage;

Our glory still awaits for you, One honor that is fair,

To have men say as you pass by: "That fellow's on the Square."

Ah, here's a phrase that stands for much 'Tis good old English too,

It means that men have confidence In everything you do,

It means that what you have you've earned, And that you've done your best,

And when you go to sleep at night Untroubled you may rest.

It means that conscience is your guide, And honor is your care;

There is no greater praise than this: "That fellow's on the Square."

And when I die I would not wish A lengthy epitaph; I do not wish a headstone large,

Carved with fulsome chaff, Pick out no single deed of mine, If such a deed there be,

To 'grave upon my monument, For those who come to see,

Just this one phrase of all I choose, To show my life was fair:

Here sleepeth now a fellow who Was always on the Square."