When he can look out over the rivers, the
hills, and the far horizon with a profound
sense of his own littleness in the vast scheme
of things, and yet have faith, hope, and
courage — which is the root of every virtue.
When he knows that down in his heart every
man is as noble, as vile, as divine, as diabolic,
and as lonely as himself, and seeks to know,
to forgive, and to love his fellowman.
When he knows how to sympathize with men
in their sorrows, yea, even in their sins
— knowing that each man fights a hard fight
against many odds.
When he has learned how to make friends and
to keep them, and above all how to keep friends
with himself.
When he loves flowers, can hunt birds without
a gun, and feels the thrill of an old forgotten
joy when he hears the laugh of a little child.
When he can be happy and high-minded amid
the meaner drudgeries of life.
When star-crowned trees and the glint of
sunlight on flowing waters subdue him like
the thought of one muched loved and long
dead.
When no voice of distress reaches his ears
in vain, and no hand seeks his aid without
response.
When he finds good in every faith that helps
any man to lay hold of divine things and
sees majestic meanings in life, whatever
the name of that faith may be.
When he can look into a wayside puddle and
see something beyond mud, and into the face
of the most forlorn fellow mortal and see
something beyond sin.
When he knows how to pray, how to love, how
to hope.
When he has kept faith with himself, with
his fellowman, and with his God; in his hand
a sword for evil, in his heart a bit of a
song — glad to live, but not afraid to die!
Such a man has found the only real secret
of Masonry, and the one which it is trying
to give to all the world.
