A world that's right
Oh blessed be the hand that toils,
to shape and build with sweat and oils.
The fruits of labor, wrought with skill,
a holy task, a noble will.
We shun the siren's call of magic's art,
for only fools seek power from a trickster's heart.
No spells or charms can match the strength,
of hammer's swung with purpose, at any length.
Our faith is firm, our devotion true,
to the Mason's word, and what we do.
We build and craft, with hands and mind,
and leave the false gods far behind.
So let us praise the workman's creed,
and shun the path of magic's greed.
For only through our labour's might,
can we create a world that's right.
Craft is our Creed
The woods may be lush, the trees may be tall,
but to the Mason, they are nothing at all.
For what are they worth, but as fuel for the forge?
to be shaped and crafted, nature reforged.
The earth is our canvas, the sky is our roof,
our hammers ring out, and our bellows are proof.
That we shape the world, with our sweat and our toil,
and the fruits of our labor, are what we hold royal.
So let the Elves bow, to their nature and wood,
but the Masons know better, for they understand good.
Our work is our worship, our craft is our creed,
and in our hands lies, the power we need.
Wicked Temptation
Beware the lure of magic's call,
for it will lead to your downfall.
It's seductive power tempts the weak,
but to the Mason, it's a sign of defeat.
With each new spell and incantation,
comes a thirst for more, a wicked temptation.
The more you wield, the more you need,
a bottomless pit of greed indeed.
And when you think you've reached the top,
the trickster gods will make you drop.
For they are the masters of deceit,
and those who follow magic will meet defeat.
So heed our words and hold your ground,
let your hammer and your sweat be your crown.
For the Mason knows the path to true power,
lies in hard work and not in magic's glower.
Blessed be
Blessed be the Mason, the master of the forge,
his hammer strikes true, his anvil never worn.
Blessed be the fire that burns with holy light,
it's shimmer illuminates the works of our might.
Blessed be the saw and the chisel and the plane,
the tools that shape the world and never complain.
Blessed be the nail and the screw and the bolt,
the fasteners that hold the works of our cult.
Blessed be the gears and the pulleys and the wheels,
the machines that multiply our strength and our skills.
Blessed be the power that flows through the wires,
the energy that drives our most ambitious desires.
Blessed be the Mason and his holy craft,
his works are our glory, his creations our raft.
In him we trust, in him we place our fate,
for his is the path that leads to the gate.
Holy reign
O Mason, bless thy faithful warriors true,
who with hammer raised and purpose anew,
stand against the heathen's darkened view,
and smite their lies with righteousness imbued.
For the progress of our faith they fight,
and in defense of our truth and right.
They strike the anvil with all their might,
and forge a future ever bright.
May they find strength in the Mason's name,
and may their hammers never tire or wane.
For in their hands our future shall remain,
as they uphold the Church's holy reign.
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