nobility--in short, how to live cleanly, kindly, calmly, open-eyed and
unafraid in a sane world, sweet of heart and full of hope. Whoso lays
this lucid and profound wisdom to heart, and lives by it, will have
little to regret, and nothing to fear, when the evening shadows fall.
Happy the young man who in the morning of his years makes it his
guide, philosopher, and friend.[186]

Such is the ideal of Masonry, and fidelity to all that is holy demands
that we give ourselves to it, trusting the power of truth, the reality
of love, and the sovereign worth of character. For only as we
incarnate that ideal in actual life and activity does it become real,
tangible, and effective. God works for man through man and seldom, if
at all, in any other way. He asks for our voices to speak His truth,
for our hands to do His work here below--sweet voices and clean hands
to make liberty and love prevail over injustice and hate. Not all of
us can be learned or famous, but each of us can be loyal and true of
heart, undefiled by evil, undaunted by error, faithful and helpful to
our fellow souls. Life is a capacity for the highest things. Let us
make it a pursuit of the highest--an eager, incessant quest of truth;
a noble utility, a lofty honor, a wise freedom, a genuine
service--that through us the Spirit of Masonry may grow and be
glorified.

When is a man a Mason? 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
fellow man. 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 the 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 much loved and long dead. When no
voice of distress reaches his ears in vain, and no hand seeks his aid
without response. Wh