The Service of the Templar

From "The Poetry Of Freemasonry" by Rob Morris

I SERVE, and my wages are ample,
I watch by the gate of my Lord;
The innermost joy of his Temple
Not yet does the Master afford.

But I SERVE at His will
And all patiently still,
At the Mystery gate I wait, I wait.

I SERVE, and my service is holy,
Though raiment be scanty and torn;
The crumbs of the feast to the lowly,
The rags to the watcher forlorn.

I SERVE, and if sometimes o'er weary,
Impatient at moments so slow,
My Master sends messages cheery,
"Be vigilant, gallant and true!"

I SERVE, but the long watch is ending,
The waning stars hint of the morn,
My Lord from His palace is bending,
Oh, joy to the watcher forlorn!

For I SERVE at His will
And all patiently still,
At the Mystery gate I wait, I wait.