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Masonic Song—Ye Sons of Old Killie

by Robert Burns, 1786

Ye sons of old Killie, assembled by Willie,
  To follow the noble vocation;
Your thrifty old mother has scarce such another
  To sit in that honoured station.
I've little to say, but only to pray,
  As praying's the ton of your fashion;
A prayer from thee Muse you well may excuse
  'Tis seldom her favourite passion.

Ye powers who preside o'er the wind, and the tide,
  Who markèd each element's border;
Who formed this frame with beneficent aim,
  Whose sovereign statute is order:—
Within this dear mansion, may wayward Contention
  Or witherèd Envy ne'er enter;
May secrecy round be the mystical bound,
  And brotherly Love be the centre!

Published in Poems and Songs of Robert Burns

Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.