From "The Poetry Of Freemasonry" by Rob Morris
Never forget, dear Comrade, while you live,
The ties of which the Templar's vow is wound;
Never forget a Templar to forgive,
If in his breast a kindred heart is found;
Never forget, though rust and sin may soil,
And lewd desires your bosom's tablet stain,
There is full pardon after life's turmoil,
If we but trust in Him who rose again.
Never forget the sad, sad story told
This hour, of treason in Gethsemane;
Never forget the good Cyrenian bold
Who bore the Sufferer's cross so manfully;
Never forget the taper quenched in night,
The darkened room, the silent group around;
Never forget the jubilant delight
When in his place a worthier was found.
Never forget to live the Templar's life,
Though hard it may be, rough, and fraught with care;
Our work, we told you, is a constant strife, —
We promised you but coarse and scanty fare;
Not long the weary arm, the moldy crust,
See on Celestial plains our camps are set!
Strike and press on, brave Comrade, as you must,
"By this sign conquer!" do thou ne'er forget.