"The horrid deed is done!  Here, cold and mute, wrapped in the icy cloak of death, the Master sleeps. No more the pageantry and pomp of power.  No more the crowd of craftsmen hastening to do his deep designs. No more the temple rising proudly from the hills and beckoning the heavens to rest upon its stately columns. No more will this, his high ambition, gratify.
      Oh death untimely!  Yet, oh timely death!  Wrested from life while fresh his honors clustered, before the fetid breath of calumny had marred the splendor of his name, or slander smirched the worth of his achievements.  He has fallen, yielding up life rather than break his vow.  Surrendering all - all that the world holds dear; life, power, riches, everything; but holding fast to his Masonic secret.
      Oh, rare integrity!  Oh, fortitude most grand!  To him in future years will countless thousands raise their songs of praise, and laud his name who death preferred than faithless prove, than trust betray.  Yet, though well kept, his secret stands revealed. I read it thus: the Masonic secret is in these words contained: Truth, Honor, Fortitude.

      But Hark! The tuneful bell rings out the hour of meeting. My comrades come. Now must we hasten away, bearing our heavy burden of remorse."

      Tis yonder from Mount Moriah I have come, filled with soulful remorse, not knowing whether it is better to tarry or to flee. But, hist! I am nearing the spot of the present concealment of the body, after having prepared a place to hide more completely from human sight forever the victim of our crime. Dreaming visions of the past, the present and the future are flying through my distracted brain; but I will tarry here and await the appointed hour, for the horrid deed is done!
      Here, cold and mute, wrapped in the icy cloak of death, the Master sleeps.
      No more the pomp and pageantry of power; no more the many craftsmen hurrying hither and thither to do his deep designs. Yet under the direction of the masterful mind, the Temple in all its grandeur and beauty has arisen, towering over the hills and beckoning the heavens to rest upon it's stately columns. No more shall this, his high ambition gratify. Oh death, untimely!
      Yet, oh timely death! Wrestled from life while fresh his honors cluster; before the fetid breath of calumny had marred the splendor of his name, or slander smirched the glory of his achievements.
      He has fallen, yielding up his life rather than break his vows; surrendering all that the world holds-power, riches, life itself, yet holding fast to his Masonic secret. Oh, integrity most rare! Oh, fortitude most grand! To him in future years shall countless Masons raise songs of praise to laud his name.
      Oh, death preferred, rather than faithless prove, rather than trust betray.
      Yet, though well kept, his secret is revealed. I read it thus: The secret of a Master Mason is contained in these three words: Truth, Honor, and Fortitude.

But, hark!   The tuneful bells ring out the hour of meeting; but where are my accomplices in crime?  Oh, ye Gods!   Must I alone, in the gloom of the midnight hour, in ghostly presence come?