The Thistle, Eighty-Seven.

THE THISTLE , EIGHTY-SEVEN .

Dedicated to the R . W . M . ancl Brethren of tho Glasgow Thistle Loclge ( No . 87 ) . By W . L . TUNE—British Grenadiers . Come now ye loyal sons of Light , In Brotherhood combined , And usher forth tho Grand

Acclaim" Good-wiU to all Mankind . " For where are hearts more leal and true , To whom the Light's been givon , Than those who wear tho royal blue —• In the Thistle Eighty-Seven 1 For whore , & c .

By art sublime and truth thvmo , Let slumbering conscience wake ; Men's better nature we'll inclino To virtue , for its sake . May Faith , and Hope , and Charity , Life ' s journey through illumon Tho feet which tread the chequered way Of Lodge Thistle Eighty-Seven . Foi where & c .

While on their breast their jewels rest , Tho outer man t' adorn , May't bo each officer ' s behest To sparo his lodge from scorn . For he tho trust in secret holds , A bond 'twixt earth and heaven , Tho key of mystery unfolds—In Thistle Eighty-Seven . For whore , & c .

Should wisdom guide our ardent plan And strong resolves appeal , Mind's beauty lends its charms to man , Then all shall work for weal . Words , forms , and deeds in unity Shall prove a glorious leaven , And raise in love aucl harmony Tho Thistle Eighty-Seven , For whore , & c .

Thus wo should keep our apron white , Pure as tho falling snow May't mind us of tho heart ' s pure light Which dries tho tear of woo : And may it be tho world around , Where sorrow may bo driven , That Masons shall as good be found As in Thistle Eighty-Seven . For where , & c .

Mason.

-MASn \ T

There's not a name a man can bear Through all the land or sea , Surname , or Christian , can compare With that of Mason free . Though earthquakes hoavo ancl torrents storm . He roves tho world assured , Wherever just a lodge , they form , His summons will bo heard .

cnonus . Then sound tbe noto of freedom ' s call , Swelling your bosoms froo ; Echo tho noblest craft of all , Tho Craft of Masonry 1 Briver stillor mountain steep

y , , Equator , pole , or zone . On housetop tiled , in valley deep , Perfect may be his homo . In native land in regions far , _ Masons a welcome greet , So that the lodge be regular , Ho knock , and brethren meet .

Chorum-Then sound the noto of friendship ' s call .

Mason.

The soldier grips his shot-torn rag And lings it to the last ; Tho sailor desperate saves his flag By nailing to the mast . Tho tender mother grasps her baho , As o ' er them billows burst , And thus as firm in faith arrayed The Master holds his trust . Chorus . —Then , sound tho note of duty's call .

The Mother's Death-Bed.

THE MOTHER'S DEATH-BED .

By Mrs . L . A . CZARNECKI . Enveloped in clouds was the dreary night—Tho pale moon hid her face of light ; Not oven a star illumined tho gloom—¦ All was dark as tho silent tomb , Tho roar of tho ocean on tho s tartled ear Filled the mind with awe and fear .

The wind passed ou with a wailing moan , Like a mourner mourning joy that is gone . A tempest of darkness reigned around , Shrouding the soul with awe profound . That night to the heart spoko language rare , It showed that tho power of God was there . * # # * *

In a lonely cottage , all hope in vain , Lay a patient sufferer ou a couch of paiu . On hor brow was the clammy damp of death—Thick and'hoavy came tho parting breath . No shade of doubt was on that sweet face , No sting of remorse could a gazer trace . 'Twas a widowed mother lay dying there ; Her child—her only one—knelt in prayer . » : •» s * * £ »

My son , she fondly breathed ; my son , I die ! Tho sands of life aro nearly run . Tho angels of heaven I bohold them near . Soon before the Judge I shall appear . I trust in tho mercy of his pardoning love To he numbered among tho bright host above , And join thy father in that blissful land , Before tho throne for over to stand .

Ah ! still in this hour of peace and joy , My heart weeps for thee , my lonely boy . But the heavenly Hand for thee will provide , In tbe happy path will thy footsteps guide . Trust in Him , my child , He will not deceive , He will guard from danger who in Him heliero . Tho God who remembers the ravens with food Shall watch o ' er thy earthly and spiritual good .

Promise , my son , thou wilt keep from siu Whilo yet I hear thee—ero my soul take wing To that holy land of glad , eternal rest , "Where peace is prepared for tho lono—oppressed . I promise thee , my treasured mother dear ; I will pray to our Father , and Ho will hoar ; Thy presence shall ever before mo bo—I cannot work siu when I think of thoe .

I shall strive to walk in huniblo faith , Like theo I may meet the pangs of death . A sweet smile crept o ' er the mother ' s face , As sho listened to those soft words of grace . She turned hor uplifted eyes to his , Ana tried to speak last words of bliss ; Speech could not come—his mother was gone 1 Ancl that boy stood there with death alone .

Years camo and fled . 'Twas tho gonial summertime , When tho flowers wore in their glowing prime , And tho glorious sun shot forth his burning rays , Rip'ning tho waving corn with his sunny blaze , "While birds , from evoiy bush and shady tree . Trilled forth their joyous notes of gladness free ; Earth smiled with sunshine and with mirth , And seemed as if rejoicing in new birth

; Happy , gladsome voices sounded swoot and clear , With a witching beauty to tho heart so dear . In a lone churchyard on that bright day , Far , far from tho busy world away , Stood a noblo form , with thought intent , And eyes upon the ground down bout .