A Scoutmaster's Prayer

 

This poem was written several years ago during World War II on a night preceding a Koshare Christmas party. Buck Burshears, while trying to figure something to say at the banquet the following night, had just learned that another of his boys, one of the Koshares, was missing in action. The result was the poem, "A Scoutmaster's Prayer," which Buck spent most of the night writing. After the war, the young man turned up in a German prison camp and returned home safely.

A little boy came knocking
At my Scout room door.

An awfully little fellow
Just twelve and no more.

His eyes danced as he watched
My gang at rowdy play.

"I would like to be a Scout," he said,
"I'm just 12 just yesterday."

In the weeks to come he found his place,
A trim young Scout he made.

The tests he passed with eagerness,
A thorough job sure paid.

The oath, the laws, the knots and flag.
Were taken to his heart.

A better man he was sure to be
Tho he'd just begun to start

By the candle-lighted darkness
I watched his round face beam

As the oath and law he pleged to keep--
Just like a prayer it seemed.

The years to come were happy ones
As we followed the trail--

That greater man had laid for us
Far up where eagles sail.

I watched him grow from boy to man
The days were far too few,

To try to teach the important things
That Scouting said were true.

I didn't know so long ago
Our nation he would defend,

I only saw a job to do,
A helping hand to lend.

Now he's flying higher still
With silver wings up there.

I pray to God the job I did
Was better than just fair.

He thanked me once for what I did
So many years ago.

It was not his thanks that paid me
Because he did not know

That greater thanks he'd given me
A thousand times before

By his dancing eyes and smiling face--
Could one ask for more?

There are other boys a-knocking,
I must invite them in.

Please, God, give me strength
To make them better men.