"Mr. Shrine"

She stood against the window pane, and watched the children play,
How they ran and chased each other, as they do most every day.
Her heart would yearn to be with them, but her legs would not permit,
For they were warped and twisted, and always pained a bit.
But yet her heart was generous, for she quietly cheered them on,
And she would stand and watch them play until the last was gone.
But birth defects were her life's woes, no attempt to correct them was made.
Her parents were out of money, and the doctor must be paid.
But daily she trudged on her crutches, rarely did she get out,
But begged to go to the Christmas Parade, to see if Santa was about.
Her family was willing to take her, to give her a little treat.
It was a thrill for a little girl, when she stood there on the street.
Then here they came, the big brass band, the clowns and animals too.
The motorcycles and funny cars, it thrilled her through and through.
Her hands were gripping her crutches, but the cheer was in her face.
You could tell the cold was unnoticed, as she stood there in her place.
Then here they came with Fez's bright, so proud as they passed by,
As they tossed the candy and bubble gum, they caught the watchers eye.
Then one red Fez got out of line, and walked over to the side
To greet the girl with crutches, his sympathy he could not hide.
He stooped to ask the little girl's name, "It's Christy, ‘Mr. Shrine'."
She knew the Fez and who they were, an angel was his find.
He never forgot the meeting that day, the smile that Christy showed.
How she stood there on those crutches, and how her face had glowed.
Days had passed, but he never forgot, those legs didn't match that smile.
He had to help her if he could, if it took him a little while.
And then one day the answer came, the number and name of the street
Where again he would see Miss Christy, a second time they would meet.
Now Christy stood by the window sill, as he came up the slight incline.
She yelled for mother to come and see, it was here "Mr. Shrine".
He told the family about the work in the hospitals far and near,
And how he'd gotten and interview, and he wanted the family to hear.
The plans were made for Christy, to the hospital she would go.
There might be several trips to make before they would really know.
Once in the van, she asked "Mr. Shrine", you could see him hide a grin.
"Do we have to buy a paper before they let me in?"
"No, my dear, that's over now. Next year we will sell again.
Right now, let's let them fix your legs, they've already said come in."
There were many trips before the end, a lot of pain for Christy too,
But now she stands tall without a crutch, her legs as good as new.
As she left the final time, and told the doctors good-bye,
She stood there with that same sweet smile, as he wiped his misty eye.
"You're just so good", she told him, "and doctor I love you much.
You're really like an angel, I feel it with every touch."
Then she kissed him on the cheek, and walked out to the van.
"You won't have to help me ‘Mr. Shrine', this time I know I can."
This will be her final ride with her buddy "Mr. Shrine".
And she was bright and glowing, just like the warm sunshine.
For on this final ride she took, she was twelve years old by now,
And knew her cure was heaven sent, for soon she would know how.
She thanked "Mr. Shrine" so sweetly, and asked if the bill was paid.
"Oh, no, my dear, there is no bill, for one was never made.
The papers we sold has paid it all, from the hearts of all mankind,
And the money is kept ‘till we need it, by the Treasurer of the Shrine.
It's not the Shrine that pays the bills, it's everyone that gives,
Your family and friends and neighborhood, and every good heart that lives."
The trip too soon had ended, and Christy began to cry.
She knew "Mr. Shrine" would soon be gone, she didn't want to say good-bye,
But he told her now that she was cured, she could help if she wanted to try.
Tell everyone to buy a paper, and he waved to her good-bye.
Some years had passed, and she was grown, but thanked God everyday
For "Mr Shrine" and the Paper Sale, and for making her well this way.
She had started to church one Sunday morn, she saw Shriners everywhere.
They were out selling papers, with that same tender, loving care.
She readied her money, a paper to buy, she drove her car in line,
And as it came her time to pay, there stood her "Mr. Shrine".
You could see that smile upon his face, and the tear in Christy's eye,
For he had made life whole again, from a parade when he passed by.
Oh, "Mr. Shrine, I love you so," as she kissed his aged face.
No matter how old she grew to be, in her heart he had a place.
Then there in church one thought she had, she knew God wouldn't mind.
"Dear God, for now and always, please bless my ‘Mr. Shrine'."

Noble Jim Glass May 1988

“Noble’s Pride”
by Noble Ben R. Steen

 When I look around at my life in the shrine,
many things I cherish stand out in my mind.

Hospitals for the children who can’t run and play,
bring hope to the families, in so many ways.

A crippled or burned child gets first-rate care,
and there’s never a charge for any child there.

And I’m proud of our circus, that's part of the shrine.
It brings out the child in all of our minds.

I’ll stand with my brothers, and salute our flag,
be it brand new, or tattered and sagged.

‘Cause it’s heavily entwined, in our lodge of blue
it stands for our freedom and the religion we choose.

We’re from many backgrounds and different lifestyles,
but we never stand taller than when we stoop to help a child.

Yes, I’m proud to be a Shriner, and I love the parades,
‘cause children’s laughter, is I get paid.

“The Men Who Wear Those Mason Rings”

Michael R. Strampe

Those men who help my dad each day,
they wear those mason rings –
a Square and Compass set in gold,
the praise of which I sing.
My dad, he hurt his back you know,
one cold and wintry day.
He slipped and fell upon the ice,
the insurance would not pay.
And since that time, those rings I see
on hands that help us much,
with mowing lawns and hauling trash,
each day my heart they touch.
They even built a house for me
amid our backyard tree,
where all the neighbor kids
would play with laughter full of glee.
My mom, she cried from happiness,
the time the Masons came
to aid our family in distress
without a thought of gain.
And when I’m big, just like my dad,
of this it must be told:
I want to wear a ring like his,
A Square and Compass gold.
Long years have passed since when
my dad was in that plaster cast,
and since I swore that Solemn Oath
which unites us to the last.
But more than that, I’m proud to say
I wear his Mason ring –
the one dad wore for many years,
until his death this Spring.
And one last time his comrades came
to aid my weeping mother.
They praised and bid a fond farewell
to our fallen Brother.
And after which, my son did ask
about their Aprons white,
and of the rings upon their hands,
of gold so shiny bright.
With tearful eyes, I said with pride,
they’re men of spirit pure,
those men who wear those Mason rings –
of that you can be sure.
And before he went to bed that night,
the family he foretold:
Someday, I’ll wear a ring like Dad’s,
a Square and Compass gold.

A Vanished Friend

Around the corner I have a friend,
In this great city that has no end;
Yet days go by and weeks rush on,
And before I know it a year is gone,
And I never see my old friend's face;
For life is a swift and terrible race.

He knows I like him just as well
As in days when I rang his bell
And he rang mine. We were younger then;
And now we are busy, tire men --
Tired with playing a foolish game;
Tired with trying to make a name.

"Tomorrow," I say, "I will call on Jim,
Just show that I'm thinking of him."
But tomorrow comes -- and tomorrow goes;
And the distance between us grows and grows.
Around the corner! Yet miles away . . .
"Here's a telegram, sir . . . Jim died today!"

And that's what we get, and deserve in the end --
Around the corner, a vanished friend.

--Charles Hanson Towne

A Shriner's Wife

A Shriner's wife is wonderful and true.
A rare treasure to find.
She is gentle, loving and kind.
Giving to others.
Never wanting anything in return.
Sharing her wisdom with others.
Helping them to learn to live each day
Walking by the Father's side.
In His sheltering arms
From trouble, you can hide.
She always has an encouraging word.
To pick you up when you're down.
Then she'll flash you an outstanding smile
That will turn your gloomy day around.
She laughs with you when you're happy.
She cries with you when you're sad.
She's there as an anchor of strenth
When everything seems to have gone bad.
She's a true friend.
She'll stand by your side.
And to have her as a friend
Makes your heart swell with pride.
She's a rare jewel, worth of praise.
In gratitude, her name should be raised.
She is there for her Shriner
To support him in all he does.
But, most of all, she gives him her greatest gift.
She gives him love.
So, if you are friends with a Shriner's wife,
Consider yourself blessed.
Because you'll never find a friend any better,
Not in the East or West.
She's a wonderful woman, loyal and true.
And, I'm glad that I've found that friend in you.

Janet Lynne Phillips March 1, 1998

A Fathers Love

A father's love is gentle, wise and kind.
He helps to ease your fears and to clear your mind.
He chases away the monsters in your bad dreams.
His strrengh shows you that it's not as bad as it seems.
He's a shoulder to cry on when you're feeling low.
He can give you a hug and a smile that warms your weary soul.
Always giving, freely, of his time.
To put your care and well being first in his life.
To ease your life from worry and strife.
A father's love is endless.
Growing more each day.
He's a light in the darkness.
To guide you on your way.
He's a source of information and advise when something has gone wrong.
He helps you to figure out the puzzle of your life.
Putting the pieces where they belong.
He's always, lifting you up and encouraging you to try.
With him by your side, you can do anything.
Even soar into the highest sky.
Giving tender, loving care when you are sick and in need.
Waiting on you, hand and foot.
Catering to your every need.
He watches over you through the night, with a vigilance unsurpassed.
And you know, without a doubt, for you, his love will last.
Making personal sacrifices, that his family can have the best.
Keeping food on the table and under a roof in which to rest.
Taking care of those he holds most dear.
Being there to laugh with them.
There to wipe away their tears.
There's nothing like a father's love.
Not near or far.
You wouldn't find anything that comes close.
Even if you went to the, most far away star.
His love is like the father's love.
Watchful, patient and true.
And just like the father, he will never leave you.
Give him honor and respect he deserves, each and every day you live.
He's a treasure to be cherished and to him we must give.
All of our love and devotion in return.
For in the presence of our hearts, his love will burn.
For no other place on earth will you find peace from all harm.
Nowhere else, but the shelter of a father's arms.
Make sure you tell him everyday that you love him so.
Because, oneday, home to the Father he'll go.
For God the Father has given him love to share in words and deeds.
And I'm so glad that he has shared that love with me.

Janet Lynne Phillips 1-8-98