The Great Pathfinder has
blazed the trail
For the Scouts of the World today,
And not a lad in the troops will fail
If he follows that well-worn way.
So it's tramp, boys, tramp!
In the path marked out for you,
With a steady pace, full of grit and grace,
And courage the right to do.
Our Pathfinder toiled in
His youthful days;
He was sinless, and strong, and fair.
He found true strength o'er the wildwood ways,
And He loved to tarry there.
So it's hike, boys, hike!
Over meadow, and woods, and lane,
On the sunlit field there's a golden yield
Of vigorous brawn and brain.
He grasped His chances to
serve and save,
On the lookout for souls in need;
His best for the people's good He gave,
Unselfish in word and deed.
So it's wake, boys, wake!
All alive to the needy world,
And it's up and away at the break of day,
With the Blood-and-Fire unfurled.
He wants His Scouts to be
pure and Strong;
To be manly, upright, and clean;
To go through life with a cheery song,
And a courteous, earnest mien.
So it's sing, boys, sing!
Your life with your song in tune,
And your song may cheer some sad hearts near,
And their midnight be turned to noon.
He meets with us round the
old camp fire,
His love an undying flame;
He searches deep for our heart's desire,
He knows how we play life's game.
So it's pray, boys, pray!
And to your own heart be true.
In the quiet night by the camp-fire light,
Your Pathfinder call for you.