of man. It is guilt, and misery added to guilt. It is itself calamity;
and brings upon itself, in addition, the calamity of God's disapproval,
the abhorrence of all virtuous men, and the soul's own abhorrence. Deal
faithfully, but patiently and tenderly, with this evil! It is no matter
for petty provocation, nor for personal strife, nor for selfish
irritation.
Speak kindly to your erring brother! God pities him: Christ has died for
him: Providence waits for him: Heaven's mercy yearns toward him; and
Heaven's spirits are ready to welcome him back with joy. Let your voice
be in unison with all those powers that God is using for his recovery!
If one defrauds you, and exults at it, he is the most to be pitied of
human beings. He has done himself a far deeper injury than he has done
you. It is he, and not you, whom God regards with mingled displeasure
and compassion; and His judgment should be your law. Among all the
benedictions of the Holy Mount there is not one for this man; but for
the merciful, the peacemakers, and the persecuted they are poured out
freely.
We are all men of like passions, propensities, and exposures. There are
elements in us all, which might have been perverted, through the
successive processes of moral deterioration, to the worst of crimes. The
wretch whom the execration of the thronging crowd pursues to the
scaffold, is not worse than any one of that multitude might have become
under similar circumstances. He is to be condemned indeed, but also
deeply to be pitied.
It does not become the frail and sinful to be vindictive toward even the
worst criminals. We owe much to the good Providence of God, ordaining
for us a lot more favorable to virtue. We all had that within us, that
might have been pushed to the same excess. Perhaps we should have fallen
as he did, with less temptation. Perhaps we _have_ done acts, that, in
proportion to the temptation or provocation, were less excusable than
his great crime. Silent pity and sorrow for the victim should mingle
with our detestation of the guilt. Even the pirate who murders in cold
blood on the high seas, is such a man as you or I might have been.
Orphanage in childhood, or base and dissolute and abandoned parents; an
unfriended youth; evil companions; ignorance and want of moral
cultivation; the temptations of sinful pleasure or grinding poverty;
familiarity with vice; a scorned and blighted name; seared and crushed
affections; desperate fortunes; these are steps that might have led any
one among us to unfurl upon the high seas the bloody flag of universal
defiance; to wage war with our kind; to live the life and die the death
of the reckless and remorseless free-booter. Many affecting
relationships of humanity plead with us to pity him. His head once
rested on a mother's bosom. He was once the object of sisterly love and
domestic endearment. Perhaps his hand, since often red with blood, once
clasped another little loving hand at the altar. Pity him then; his
blighted hopes and his crushed heart! It is proper that frail and erring
creatures like us should do so; should feel the crime, but feel it as
weak, tempted, and rescued creatures should. It may be that when God
weighs men's crimes, He will take into consideration the temptations and
the adverse circumstances that led to them, and the opportunities for
moral culture of the offender; and it may be that our own offences will
weigh heavier than we think, and the murderer's lighter than according
to man's judgment.
On all accounts, therefore, let the true Mason never forget the solemn
injunction, necessary to be observed at almost every moment of a busy
life: "JUDGE NOT, LEST YE YOURSELVES BE JUDGED: FOR WHATSOEVER JUDGMENT
YE MEASURE UNTO OTHERS, THE SAME SHALL IN TURN BE MEASURED UNTO YOU."
Such is the lesson taught the Provost and Judge.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
VIII.
INTENDANT OF THE BUILDING.
In this Degree you have been taught the important lesson, that none are
entitled to advance in the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite, who have
not by study and application made themselves familiar with Masonic
learning and jurisprudence. The Degrees of this Rite are not for those
who are content with the mere work and ceremonies, and do not seek to
explore the mines of wisdom that lie buried beneath the surface. You
still advance toward the Light, toward that star, blazing in the
distance, which is an emblem of the Divine Truth, given by God to the
first men, and preserved amid all the vicissitudes of ages in the
traditions and teachings of Masonry. How far you will advance, depends
upon yourself alone. Here, as everywhere in the world, Darkness
struggles with Light, and clouds and shadows intervene between you and
the Truth.
When you shall have become imbued with the morality of Masonry, with
which you yet are, and for some time will be exclusively occupied,--when
you shall have learned to practice all the virtues which it inculcates;
when they become familiar to you as your Household Gods; then will you
be prepared to receive its lofty philosophical instruction, and to scale
the heights upon whose summit Light and Truth sit enthroned. Step by
step men must advance toward Perfection; and each Masonic Degree is
meant to be one of those steps. Each is a development of a particular
duty; and in the present you are taught charity and benevolence; to be
to your brethren an example of virtue; to correct your own faults; and
to endeavor to correct those of your brethren.
Here, as in all the Degrees, you meet with the emblems and the names of
Deity, the true knowledge of whose character and attributes it has ever
been a chief object of Masonry to perpetuate. To appreciate His infinite
greatness and goodness, to rely implicitly on His Providence, to revere
and venerate Him as the Supreme Architect, Creator, and Legislator of
the universe, is the first of Masonic duties.
The Battery of this Degree, and the five circuits which you made around
the Lodge, allude to the five points of fellowship, and are intended to
recall them vividly to your mind. To go upon a brother's errand or to
his relief, even barefoot and upon flinty ground; to remember him in
your supplications to the Deity; to clasp him to your heart, and protect
him against malice and evil-speaking; to uphold him when about to
stumble and fall; and to give him prudent, honest, and friendly counsel,
are duties plainly written upon the pages of God's great code of law,
and first among the ordinances of Masonry.
The first sign of the Degree is expressive of the diffidence and
humility with which we inquire into the nature and attributes of the
Deity; the second, of the profound awe and reverence with which we
contemplate His glories; and the third, of the sorrow with which we
reflect upon our insufficient observance of our duties, and our
imperfect compliance with His statutes.
The distinguishing property of man is to search for and follow after
truth. Therefore, when relaxed from our necessary cares and concerns, we
then covet to see, to hear, and to learn somewhat; and we esteem
knowledge of things, either obscure or wonderful, to be the
indispensable means of living happily. Truth, Simplicity, and Candor are
most agreeable to the nature of mankind. Whatever is virtuous consists
either in Sagacity, and the Perception of Truth; or in the preservation
of Human Society, by giving to every man his due, and observing the
faith of contracts; or in the greatness and firmness of an elevated and
unsubdued mind; or in observing order and regularity in all our words
and in all our actions; in which consist Moderation and Temperance.
Masonry has in all times religiously preserved that enlightened faith
from which flow sublime Devotedness, the sentiment of Fraternity
fruitful of good works, the spirit of indulgence and peace, of sweet
hopes and effectual consolations; and inflexibility in the
accomplishment of the most painful and arduous duties. It has always
propagated it with ardor and perseverance; and therefore it labors at
the present day more zealously than ever. Scarcely a Masonic discourse
is pronounced, that does not demonstrate the necessity and advantages of
this faith, and especially recall the two constitutive principles of
religion, that _make_ all religion,--love of God, and love of neighbor.
Masons carry these principles into the bosoms of their families and of
society. While the Sectarians of former times enfeebled the religious
spirit, Masonry, forming one great People over the whole globe, and
marching under the great banner of Charity and Benevolence, preserves
that religious feeling, strengthens it, extends it in its purity and
simplicity, as it has always existed in the depths of the human heart,
as it existed even under the dominion of the most ancient forms of
worship, but where gross and debasing superstitions forbade its
recognition.
A Masonic Lodge should resemble a bee-hive, in which all the members
work together with ardor for the common good. Masonry is not made for
cold souls and narrow minds, that do not comprehend its lofty mission
and sublime apostolate. Here the anathema against lukewarm souls
applies. To comfort misfortune, to popularize knowledge, to teach
whatever is true and pure in religion and philosophy, to accustom men to
respect order and the proprieties of life, to point out the way to
genuine happiness, to prepare for that fortunate period, when all the
factions of the Human Family, united by the bonds of Toleration and
Fraternity, shall be but one household,--these are labors that may well
excite zeal and even enthusiasm.
We do not now enlarge upon or elaborate these ideas. We but utter them
to you briefly, as hints, upon which you may at your leisure reflect.
Hereafter, if you continue to advance, they will be unfolded, explained,
and developed.
Masonry utters no impracticable and extravagant precepts, certain,
because they are so, to be disregarded. It asks of its initiates nothing
that it is not possible and even easy for them to perform. Its teachings
are eminently practical; and its statutes can be obeyed by every just,
upright, and honest man, no matter what his faith or creed. Its object
is to attain the greatest practical good, without seeking to make men
perfect. It does not meddle with the domain of religion, nor inquire
into the mysteries of regeneration. It teaches those truths that are
written by the finger of God upon the heart of man, those views of duty
which have been wrought out by the meditations of the studious,
confirmed by the allegiance of the good and wise, and stamped as
sterling by the response they find in every uncorrupted mind. It does
not dogmatize, nor vainly imagine dogmatic certainty to be attainable.
Masonry does not occupy itself with crying down this world, with its
splendid beauty, its thrilling interests, its glorious works, its noble
and holy affections; nor exhort us to detach our hearts from this
earthly life, as empty, fleeting, and unworthy, and fix them upon
Heaven, as the only sphere deserving the love of the loving or the
meditation of the wise. It teaches that man has high duties to perform,
and a high destiny to fulfill, on this earth; that this world is not
merely the portal to another; and that this life, though not our only
one, is an integral one, and the particular one with which we are here
meant to be concerned; that the Present is our scene of action, and the
Future for speculation and for trust; that man was sent upon the earth
to live in it, to enjoy it, to study it, to love it, to embellish it, to
make the most of it. It is his country, on which he should lavish his
affections and his efforts. It is here his influences are to operate. It
is his house, and not a tent; his home, and not _merely_ a school. He is
sent into this world, not to be constantly hankering after, dreaming of,
preparing for another; but to do his duty and fulfill his destiny on
this earth; to do all that lies in his power to improve it, to render it
a scene of elevated happiness to himself, to those around him, to those
who are to come after him. His life here is _part_ of his immortality;
and this world, also, is among the stars.
And thus, Masonry teaches us, will man best prepare for that Future
which he hopes for. The Unseen cannot hold a higher Place in our
affections than the Seen and the Familiar. The law of our being is Love
of Life, and its interests and adornments; love of the world in which
our lot is cast, engrossment with the interests and affections of earth.
Not a low or sensual love; not love of wealth, of fame, of ease, of
power, of splendor. Not low worldliness; but the love of Earth as the
garden on which the Creator has lavished such miracles of beauty; as the
habitation of humanity, the arena of its conflicts, the scene of its
illimitable progress, the dwelling-place of the wise, the good, the
active, the loving, and the dear; the place of opportunity for the
development by means of sin and suffering and sorrow, of the noblest
passions, the loftiest virtues, and the tenderest sympathies.
They take very unprofitable pains, who endeavor to persuade men that
they are obliged wholly to despise this world, and all that is in it,
even whilst they themselves live here. God hath not taken all that pains
in forming and framing and furnishing and adorning the world, that they
who were made by Him to live in it should despise it. It will be enough,
if they do not love it too immoderately. It is useless to attempt to
extinguish all those affections and passions which are and always will
be inseparable from human nature. As long as the world lasts, and honor
and virtue and industry have reputation in the world, there will be
ambition and emulation and appetite in the best and most accomplished
men in it; and if there were not, more barbarity and vice and wickedness
would cover every nation of the world, than it now suffers under.
Those only who feel a deep interest in, and affection for, this world,
will work resolutely for its amelioration. Those who undervalue this
life, naturally become querulous and discontented, and lose their
interest in the welfare of their fellows. To serve them, and so to do
our duty as Masons, we must feel that the object is worth the exertion;
and be content with this world in which God has placed us, until He
permits us to remove to a better one. He is here with us, and does not
deem this an unworthy world.
It is a serious thing to defame and belie a whole world; to speak of it
as the abode of a poor, toiling, drudging, ignorant, contemptible race.
You would not so discredit your family, your friendly circle, your
village, your city, your country. The world is not a wretched and a
worthless one; nor is it a misfortune, but a thing to be thankful for,
to be a man. If life is worthless, so also is immortality.
In society itself, in that living mechanism of human relationships that
spreads itself over the world, there is a finer essence within, that as
truly moves it, as any power, heavy or expansive, moves the sounding
manufactory or the swift-flying car. The man-machine hurries to and fro
upon the earth, stretches out its hands on every side, to toil, to
barter, to unnumbered labors and enterprises; and almost always the
motive, that which moves it, is something that takes hold of the
comforts, affections, and hopes of social existence. True, the mechanism
often works with difficulty, drags heavily, grates and screams with
harsh collision. True, the essence of finer motive, becoming intermixed
with baser and coarser ingredients, often clogs, obstructs, jars, and
deranges the free and noble action of social life. But he is neither
grateful nor wise, who looks cynically on all this, and loses the fine
sense of social good in its perversions. That I can be a _friend_, that
I can _have_ a friend, though it were but one in the world; that fact,
that wondrous good fortune, we may set against all the sufferings of our
social nature. That there is such a place on earth as a _home_, that
resort and sanctuary of in-walled and shielded joy, we may set against
all the surrounding desolations of life. That one can be a true, social
man, can speak his true thoughts, amidst all the janglings of
controversy and the warring of opinions; that fact from within,
outweighs all facts from without.
In the visible aspect and action of society, often repulsive and
annoying, we are apt to lose the due sense of its invisible blessings.
As in Nature it is not the coarse and palpable, not soils and rains, nor
even fields and flowers, that are so beautiful, as the invisible spirit
of wisdom and beauty that pervades it; so in society, it is the
invisible, and therefore unobserved, that is most beautiful.
What nerves the arm of toil? If man minded himself alone, he would fling
down the spade and axe, and rush to the desert; or roam through the
world as a wilderness, and make that world a desert. His home, which he
sees not, perhaps, but once or twice in a day, is the invisible bond of
the world. It is the good, strong, and noble faith that men have in each
other, which gives the loftiest character to business, trade, and
commerce. Fraud occurs in the rush of business; but it is the exception.
Honesty is the rule; and all the frauds in the world cannot tear the
great bond of human confidence. If they could, commerce would furl its
sails on every sea, and all the cities of the world would crumble into
ruins. The bare character of a man on the other side of the world, whom
you never saw, whom you never will see, you hold good for a bond of
thousands. The most striking feature of the political state is not
governments, nor constitutions, nor laws, nor enactments, nor the
judicial power, nor the police; but the universal will of the people to
be governed by the common weal. Take off that restraint, and no
government on earth could stand for an hour.
Of the many teachings of Masonry, one of the most valuable is, that we
should not depreciate this life. It does not hold, that when we reflect
on the destiny that awaits man on earth, we ought to bedew his cradle
with our tears; but, like the Hebrews, it hails the birth of a child
with joy, and holds that his birthday should be a festival.
It has no sympathy with those who profess to have proved this life, and
found it little worth; who have deliberately made up their minds that it
is far more miserable than happy; because its employments are tedious,
and their schemes often baffled, their friendships broken, or their
friends dead, its pleasures palled, and its honors faded, and its paths
beaten, familiar, and dull.
Masonry deems it no mark of great piety toward God to disparage, if not
despise, the state that He has ordained for us. It does not absurdly set
up the claims of another world, not in comparison merely, but in
competition, with the claims of this. It looks upon both as parts of one
system. It holds that a man may make the best of this world and of
another at the same time. It does not teach its initiates to think
better of other works and dispensations of God, by thinking meanly of
these. It does not look upon life as so much time lost; nor regard its
employments as trifles unworthy of immortal beings; nor tell its
followers to fold their arms, as if in disdain of their state and
species; but it looks soberly and cheerfully upon the world, as a
theatre of worthy action, of exalted usefulness, and of rational and
innocent enjoyment.
It holds that, with all its evils, life is a blessing. To deny that is
to destroy the basis of all religion, natural and revealed. The very
foundation of all religion is laid on the firm belief that God is good;
and if this life is an evil and a curse, no such belief can be
rationally entertained. To level our satire at humanity and human
existence, as mean and contemptible; to look on this world as the
habitation of a miserable race, fit only for mockery and scorn; to
consider this earth as a dungeon or a prison, which has no blessing to
offer but escape from it, is to extinguish the primal light of faith and
hope and happiness, to destroy the basis of religion, and Truth's
foundation in the goodness of God. If it indeed be so, then it matters
not what else is true or not true; speculation is vain and faith is
vain; and all that belongs to man's highest being is buried in the ruins
of misanthropy, melancholy, and despair.
Our love of life; the tenacity with which, in sorrow and suffering, we
cling to it; our attachment to our home, to the spot that gave us birth,
to any place, however rude, unsightly, or barren, on which the history
of our years has been written, all show how dear are the ties of kindred
and society. Misery makes a greater impression upon us than happiness;
because the former is not the habit of our minds. It is a strange,
unusual guest, and we are more conscious of its presence. Happiness
lives with us, and we forget it. It does not excite us, nor disturb the
order and course of our thoughts. A great agony is an epoch in our life.
We remember our afflictions, as we do the storm and earthquake, because
they are out of the common course of things. They are like disastrous
events, recorded because extraordinary; and with whole and unnoticed
periods of prosperity between. We mark and signalize the times of
calamity; but many happy days and unnoted periods of enjoyment pass,
that are unrecorded either in the book of memory, or in the scanty
annals of our thanksgiving. We are little disposed and less able to call
up from the dim remembrances of our past years, the peaceful moments,
the easy sensations, the bright thoughts, the quiet reveries, the
throngs of kind affections in which life flowed on, bearing us almost
unconsciously upon its bosom, because it bore us calmly and gently.
Life is not only good; but it has been glorious in the experience of
millions. The glory of all human virtue clothes it. The splendors of
devotedness, beneficence, and heroism are upon it; the crown of a
thousand martyrdoms is upon its brow. The brightness of the soul shines
through this visible and sometimes darkened life; through all its
surrounding cares and labors. The humblest life may feel its connection
with its Infinite Source. There is something mighty in the frail inner
man; something of immortality in this momentary and transient being. The
mind stretches away, on every side, into infinity. Its thoughts flash
abroad, far into the boundless, the immeasurable, the infinite; far into
the great, dark, teeming future; and become powers and influences in
other ages. To know its wonderful Author, to bring down wisdom from the
Eternal Stars, to bear upward its homage, gratitude, and love, to the
Ruler of all worlds, to be immortal in our influences projected far into
the slow-approaching Future, makes life most worthy and most glorious.
Life is the wonderful creation of God. It is light, sprung from void
darkness; power, waked from inertness and impotence; being created from
nothing; and the contrast may well enkindle wonder and delight. It is a
rill from the infinite, overflowing goodness; and from the moment when
it first gushes up into the light, to that when it mingles with the
ocean of Eternity, that Goodness attends it and ministers to it. It is a
great and glorious gift. There is gladness in its infant voices; joy in
the buoyant step of its youth; deep satisfaction in its strong maturity;
and peace in its quiet age. There is good for the good; virtue for the
faithful; and victory for the valiant. There is, even in this humble
life, an infinity for those whose desires are boundless. There are
blessings upon its birth; there is hope in its death; and eternity in
its prospect. Thus earth, which binds many in chains, is to the Mason
both the starting-place and goal of immortality. Many it buries in the
rubbish of dull cares and wearying vanities; but to the Mason it is the
lofty mount of meditation, where Heaven, and Infinity and Eternity are
spread before him and around him. To the lofty-minded, the pure, and the
virtuous, this life is the beginning of Heaven, and a part of
immortality.