War Is A Series Of

Man Is Encompassed With A Dome Of Incomprehensible Wonders. In Him And About Him Is That Which Should Fill His Life With Majesty And Sacredness. Something Of Sublimity And Sanctity Has Thus Flashed Down From Heaven Into The Heart Of Every One That Lives.

He Who Endeavors To Serve, To Benefit, And Improve The World, Is Like A Swimmer, Who Struggles Against A Rapid Current, In A River Lashed Into Angry Waves By The Winds. Often They Roar Over His Head, Often They Beat Him Back And Baffle Him. Most Men Yield To The Stress Of The Current... Only Here And There The Stout, Strong Heart And Vigorous Arms Struggle On Toward Ultimate Success.

Virtue Is But Heroic Bravery, To Do The Thing Thought To Be True, In Spite Of All Enemies Of Flesh Or Spirit, In Despite Of All Temptations Or Menaces.

To Sow, That Others May Reap; To Work And Plant For Those That Are To Occupy The Earth When We Are Dead; To Project Our Influences Far Into The Future, And Live Beyond Our Time; To Rule As The Kings Of Thought, Over Men Who Are Yet Unborn; To Bless With The Glorious Gifts Of Truth And Light And Liberty Those Who Will Neither Know The Name Of The Giver, Nor Care In What Grave His Unregarded Ashes Repose, Is The True Office Of A Mason And The Proudest Destiny Of A Man.

Know Thou The Self (spirit) As Riding In A Chariot, The Body As The Chariot. Know Thou The Intellect As The Chariot-driver, And The Mind As The Reins. The Senses, They Say, Are The Horses; The Objects Of Sense, What They Range Over. The Self Combined With Senses And Mind Wise Men Call "the Enjoyer.