By the scimitar and crescent you wear upon your coat,
You proclaim that you're a Shriner. It's a sign for men to note.
It's a symbol that your fellows have abiding faith in you;
They believe that you are worthy and they trust in all you do.
But I wonder, fellow Noble, as I meet you here and there,
If you've really caught the meaning of that little badge you wear?

 

Are you mindful of its splendor? Are you watchful of its fame?
Are you careful as you travel not to bring it into shame?
You proclaim that you're a Shriner, every passer-by can see
That you've pledged to do the right thing wheresoever you may be,
But, world-wide, your brothers suffer loss and injury from you,
If you do a wrong act which a Shriner wouldn't do.

 

 

By the token you're wearing, you're expected to be fine;
We have taught the world it's something to be chosen by the Shrine;
And the man who wears its emblem has his fellow's guarantee
That a gentleman of honor he is known and pledged to be;
And if he shall fail that standard by some thoughtless word or whim,
All Shriners, wide world over, shall be put to shame by him.

 

 

By the scimitar and crescent which so proudly you display,
You are bound to live and travel in a bigger, better way.
You must dignify the emblem, so none whom you may meet,
Be he friend or foe, may whisper that the Shrine is but a cheat.
You must play the man at all times, you must keep your conduct fair,
And be worthy of the crescent and scimitar you wear.

                    . . .Noble Edgar Guest