O God, our help in ages past,
We need Thy help right now.
Our waypoints are completely lost,
The footpath's under plough!

Before, the hills in order stood
And walls and gates weren't there,
Our fathers wandered where they would,
And no-one much would care.

Today, we follow lines on maps,
Which we keep up to date,
Lest farmers, yea, such cheerful chaps
Might get a touch irate!

But we've no notion where to go,
We have great need of Thee,
The fog and rain have blocked our view;
Our path we cannot see.

The path diverted through a field –
A bull, with utmost glee,
Made it quite clear he would not yield,
We had to turn and flee.

We had to go right through a bog,
Of mud and stinking ooze,
We thank you, Lord, that we were shod,
In proper walking shoes.

Our path is blocked by wiry barbs,
By thorns our way is closed,
We seek elusive yellow marks
So we don't tear our clothes.

Under the shadow of Thy throne,
Ramblers and Farmers dwell,
If they would make the waypoints known,
We'd get along quite well!

By Nigel Beeton

To view the latest information with regards to the South Downs Campaign, please click on the following link:

South Downs Campaign

Following is a link to the 'Ramblers' members magazine 'Walk'

'Walk' Magazine