Now is the hour when Elkdom's tower is darkened by the shroud of night, and father time on his silver chime Tolls off each monents flight.
In Cloistered halls each Elk recalls His Brothers where'er they be, And traces their faces to well known places in the annals of memory.
Whether they stand on a foreign land Or lie in an earthen bed, Whether they be on the boundless sea With the breakers of death ahead.
What'er their plight on this errie night what'er their fate may be.Where ever they are be it near or far they are thinking of you and me.
So drink from the fountain of fellowship To the Brother who clasped your hand,And wrote youe worth in the rock of earth And your faults upon the sand.
TO OUR ABSENT BROTHERS.