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. (re-post)