Ours is a legend old and true,
(Tell it, tell it, comrades of my heart!)
Of a boy who trod our streets and knew
The same rough seas and skies swept blue;
By the same rough winds and lived and grew
In the same rough North, as I and you,
Comrades of my heart!
He was a saint and a scholar too,
(Mark his footsteps, Bedans of today),
Aged scholar, frail and faint,
Mighty, undissuaded saint;
He wrote in English old and quaint,
The Book of Books. O, pure from taint,
Guard we it today!
Ours is a task divinely new,
(Face it, dare it, children of his race!)
For he handed down the golden key
Of the gates of life to you and me.
He looked forward, so must we,
And toil for the ages yet to be,
And for those who shall take our place.
Clear and keen his spirit's view,
(Lift your hearts, ye pilgrims of the night!)
Though his eyes were dim, and no more he knew
The sea and sky in their splendid blue,
He held fast the promise true,
And still we hold it, I and you,
"After darkness, light!"
Lyrics reproduced from School Speech Day leaflet 1962