You now represent a young F. C. on his way to the M. C. of K. S. T., to
have his name enrolled among the workmen, and to be taught the wages of
a F. C. Masonry is divided into two classes, operative and speculative.
We have wrought in speculative Masonry, but our ancient brethren wrought
both in operative and speculative. They wrought at the building of K. S.
T., and many other Masonic edifices. They wrought but six days in a
week, and rested upon the seventh. The seventh, therefore, our ancient
brethren consecrated as a day of rest, the better to enable them to
contemplate the glorious works of creation and to adore their great
Creator.
On our way to the M. C. the first things that attract our attention are
the representatives of two brazen pillars, one upon the left, the other
upon the right of the porch. The one upon the left, denominated * * *
denoted strength; the one upon the right, denominated * * * denoted
establishment, having reference to a passage of Scripture wherein God
said to David, "And thine house and thy kingdom shall be established
forever before thee."
Those pillars were eighteen cubits high, twelve in circumference and
four in diameter. They were prepared of molten brass, the better to
withstand conflagration or inundation. They were cast in the clay
grounds of the river Jordan, between Succoth and Zaradatha, where K. S.
ordered all the holy vessels to be cast. They were hollow, four inches,
or a hand's breadth, in thickness, and served as the archives of Masonry
in which the Rolls, Records and Proceedings were kept. They were adorned
with two chapiters, five cubits each. Those chapiters were ornamented
with net-work, lily-work and pomegranate, denoting union, peace and
plenty. The net-work, from its intimate connection, denotes union. The
lily, from its whiteness, denotes peace. The pomegranate, from the
exuberance of its seeds, denotes plenty. Mounted upon the chapiters were
two globes, representing the terrestrial and celestial bodies, on the
convex surface of which were delineated the countries, seas and other
portions of the earth, the planetary revolutions and other important
particulars. They represented the universality of Freemasonry--that from
east to west and between north and south Freemasonry extends, and in
every clime are Masons to be found, and teach that a Mason's charity
should be co-extensive.
Masonic tradition informs us that those pillars were placed at the porch
of K. S.'s T. as a memento to the children of Israel of their happy
deliverance from the land of bondage, and represented the pillar of
cloud that over-shadowed them by day and the pillar of fire that
illumined them by night.
The next thing that attracts our attention is a flight of winding
stairs, composed of three, five and seven steps. The three steps allude
to the three principal officers of the lodge, three principal supports
in Masonry, and the three principal stages in human life. The three
principal officers are the W. M., S. W. and J. W. The three principal
supports are Wisdom, Strength and Beauty, because it is necessary to
have wisdom to contrive, strength to support and beauty to adorn all
well governed institutions. The three principal stages of human life are
Youth, Manhood and Age--Youth as an E. A., Manhood as a F. C., and Age
as a M. M.
The five steps allude to the five orders of architecture, and the five
human senses. The five orders of architecture are the Tuscan, Doric,
Ionic, Corinthian and Composite, three of which, from their antiquity,
have ever been held in high repute among Masons--the Doric, Ionic and
Corinthian. The five human senses are hearing, seeing, feeling, tasting
and smelling, the first three of which have ever been held in high
repute among Masons, because by hearing we hear the * * *; by seeing we
see the * * *, and by feeling we feel the * * *, whereby one Mason may
know another in the dark as well as in the light.
The seven steps allude to many sevens--the seven sabbatical years, seven
years of plenty, seven years of famine, seven years during which K. S.'s
T. was in course of erection, seven golden candlesticks, but more
particularly the seven liberal arts and sciences, which are Grammar,
Rhetoric, Logic, Arithmetic, Geometry, Astronomy and Music.
(Note:--A fine effect can be had, if an organ is played, by using the
following. The organist should begin to play softly when the speaker
begins on "Music:")
Music is that elevated science which affects the passions by sound.
There are few who have not felt its charms, and acknowledged its
expressions to be intelligible to the heart. It is a language of
delightful sensations, far more eloquent than words; it breathes to the
ear the clearest intimations; it touches and gently agitates the
agreeable and sublime passions; it wraps us in melancholy, elevates us
in joy and melts us in tenderness. Again the pathetic dies away and
martial strains are heard, reminding us of the battlefield and its
attendant glory.
(As the word "glory" is pronounced the organist at once strikes the
chords of some war-music like "Dixie," "Marseilles Hymn," etc. After a
few bars are played with full organ, the organist lets the music die
away to a soft and gentle tremolo, and the Deacon resumes):
The glorious notes of the battle-hymn float over the red field of
carnage. Brave men hear the inspiring music; the ranks close up; the
bayonets are fixed; and, with a cheer which strikes terror to the heart
of the foe, they rush forward in one glorious charge, across the plain
slippery with the blood of patriots, up the opposing hillside, even to
the mouth of cannon belching forth fire and death.--But stop! Look
yonder! The dying soldier raises his head. His breast is already crimson
with his heart's-blood. His eye even now is dimming and glazing. The old
home comes back to him in memory. He puts his hand to his ear as if
listening. What does he hear?
(Here the organist plays softly the strains of "Home, Sweet Home," or
some well-known lullaby; during which the Deacon continues):
Ah, it is the old, old melody of youth and home! Again we are around the
old hearthstone. Again do we kneel at mother's knee to lisp the evening
prayer. Again she takes us in her arms, and sings to her tired child the
soft, low lullaby of childhood's happy days.--Oh, Music, Music! Art
Divine! Thou dost move and stir the heart as nothing else can do! Yet
never canst thy sweet potency be better used than when it inspires
praise and gratitude to the great Lord and Master of us all!
(At the word "all," the organist promptly strikes the chords of "Old
Hundred," and, to its accompaniment, the Master calling up the Lodge,
all unite in singing the long-metre doxology.)
This brings us to the outer door of the M. C., which we find partly
open, but strictly tiled by the J. W. We will see if we can gain
admission.