BROTHER TYLER
By: Henry Englesman
He took me by the hand when I was just a Lewis,
And he led me into the darkness unafraid,
And in that Lodge select, my most profound respect
Enshrouds that man with eyes a-smiling, charm beguiling, calm, serene and modest mien,
Whose hands caress the unsheathed, tempered blade.
I knew it then, I know it now, as ev'ry shepherd
Comes to know the crook that guards his flock,
That greeting, kind, sincere, falling soft upon the ear
Marks that man with piercing glance and ramrod stance, gentle grace, unruffled pace,
Who spritely answers to the double knock.
That welcome warm, bestowed on every Brother
Bespeaks his role as servant of the host,
And imports more than duty, for there be a serene beauty
In simple service rendered, bonhomie extended, 'til festivities be ended,
Culminating in the Tyler's Toast.
To sustain this sense of presence by the Tyler
Is a goal to which all Lodges must aspire.
For with portals safely tight, may we conduct our Ancient Rite
With unashamed delight,
And as shodows fall with night
We softly echo, "Should they so desire."
