The Level's a jewel when it levels men up,
But not so if it levels them down;
And the Mason who levels his life by its gauge,
Will be laureled at last with a Crown.
But woe be the man who passes through life,
On the level by most men that's trod;
'Twere better, far better he'd ne'er been born,
or in youth he'd been laid 'neath the sod.
Our symbol-the Level-teaches plainly this truth:
Men are equal when they all do the right;
It exacts from us all, from old age down to youth,
A pledge to be just day and night.
On the level of truth we would walk with men true,
Down the sweep of years as they fly;
Looking up and not down, as Masons should do,
To the mansions of rest in the sky.
On the Level, at last, all Masons must meet,
And surrender their trust to the King;
Though weary their limbs and tired their feet,
To their Ancient, Grand Craft they should cling.
But better than Level is the Right-Angled Square,
For it teaces greater lessons than love;
By its angle men's lives are tested as true,
In this world and the Home that's above.
Man's a man only, when square in his acts,
And is clean on the inside and out;
In the quiet of home, he'll be honored alike,
Or in tempest-tossed sea cast about.
As sweep the shot-stars adown the domed sky,
Shine the lives of the men that are square;
Their deeds, when they're gone, will after them live,
And their virtues be cherished as rare.
Though fiery hosts in their cycles may fly,
Yet safe from the storm is the life that is square;
Beyond the lurid, milky-way in the sky,
Is the Home rich and beautiful-fair.
We'll meet on the Level and act by the Square,
As Masons we know its our duty to do;
And the world will be better and brighter and fair,
Because we've lived in it, and journeyed life through. | 
