by H. L. Haywood
Give me your hand;
You are rich; I am poor;
Your wealth is your power, and by it you tread
A wide open path; where for me is a door
That is locked; and before it are worry and dread.
We are sundered, are we,
As two men can be
But we are two brothers in Freemasonry
So give me your hand.
Give me your hand;
You are great; I’m unknown;
You travel with a permanent fame;
I go on a way unlauded, alone,
With hardly a man to hear of my name:
We are sundered, are we,
As two men can be
But we are two brothers in Freemasonry
So give me your hand.
Give me your hand;
You are old; I am young;
The years in your heart their wisdom have sown;
But knowledge speaks not by my faltering tongue,
And small in the wisdom I claim as my own:
We are sundered, are we,
As two men can be
But we are two brothers in Freemasonry
So give me your hand.
