To Be A Pilgrim

Who would true valor see,
   Let him come hither;
One here will constant be,
   Come wind, come weather;
There’s no discouragement
Shall make him once relent
His first avowed intent
   To be a pilgrim.

Whoso beset him round
   With dismal stories
Do but themselves confound;
   His strength the more is.
No lion can him fright,
He’ll with a giant fight,
But he will have a right
   To be a pilgrim.

No power of evil field
   Can daunt his spirit,
He knows he at the end
   Shall life inherit.
Then fancies fly away,
He’ll fear not what men say,
He’ll labor night and day
   To be a pilgrim.

Melody: Monks Gate
Music: R. Vaughan Williams
Text: John Bunyan, 1628-1688, alt.