The Pilgrim
Who would true Valour 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 avow'd Intent,
To be a Pilgrim.
Who so beset him round,
With dismal Storys,
Do but themselves Confound;
His Strength the more is.
No Lyon can him fright,
He'l with a Gyant Fight,
But he will have a right,
To be a Pilgrim.
Hobgoblin, nor foul Fiend,
Can daunt his Spirit:
He knows, he at the end,
Shall Life Inherit.
Then Fancies fly away,
He'l fear not what men say,
He'l labour Night and Day,
To be a Pilgrim.
poem by John Bunyan
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Related quotes
Who would true Valour see
Who would true Valour 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 avow'd Intent,
To be a Pilgrim.
Who so beset him round,
With dismal Storys,
Do but themselves Confound;
His Strength the more is.
No Lyon can him fright,
He'l with a Gyant Fight,
But he will have a right,
To be a Pilgrim.
Hobgoblin, nor foul Fiend,
Can daunt his Spirit:
He knows, he at the end,
Shall Life Inherit.
Then Fancies fly away,
He'l fear not what men say,
He'l labour Night and Day,
To be a Pilgrim.
poem by John Bunyan
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Pilgrim
And how do I choose and where do I draw the line
Between truth and necessary pain?
And how do I know and where do I get my belief
That things will be all right again?
What words do I use to try and explain
To those who have witnessed all my tears?
And what does it mean to know all these things
When loves been wasted all these years,
When loves been wasted all these years.
Standing in the shadows
With my heart right in my hand,
Removed from other people
Who could never understand.
I was a pilgrim for your love,
A pilgrim for your love,
A pilgrim for your love,
I was a pilgrim for your love.
Its like living in a nightmare,
Like looking in the blackest hole,
Like standing on the edge of nothing,
Completly out of control.
Now where have I been all these years
And how come I just couldnt see?
Like a blind man walking round in darkness,
I was a pilgrim for your love,
I was a pilgrim for your love.
Standing in the shadows
With my heart right in my hand,
Removed from other people
Who could never understand.
Chorus
I was a pilgrim for your love.
A pilgrim for your love.
I was a pilgrim.
Pilgrim for your love.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lost Pilgrim (Lyrics)
Pilgrim, those are dry and bitter tears,
And normal eyes look way beyond your years.
Pilgrim, did you drink the mercury,
Your lips turn blue and you're struggling just to see.
You were too far gone to carry on,
Now your life has stalled.
As you march ahead yet go no place at all.
Pilgrim, when you left that all behind,
The loneliness destroyed your able mind.
Pilgrim, see the writing on the door,
It's taking you back to a place you were before.
Pious eyes, ignoring passers by,
Welcome to their grave.
Don't despair, this world of toil and care,
This pilgrim lost his way.
Pilgrim, will you ever find your cause,
This drink so pure that you're willing to risk it all.
Pious eyes, ignoring passers by,
Welcome to their grave.
Don't despair, this world of toil and care,
This pilgrim lost his way.
poem by Satan's Sibling
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Pilgrim's Daughter
‘Pilgrim’s daughter’
I met a pilgrim’s daughter
We did things we shouldna oughta
The old pilgrim father caught us
God he was in such a lather
Now I’m! the pilgrim father
MICMAC
poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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Pilgram
Pilgrim, how you journey
On the road you chose
To find out where the winds die
And where the stories go.
All days come from one day
That must you must know,
You cannot change whats over
But only where you go.
One way leads to diamonds,
One way leads to gold,
Another leads you only
To everything youre told.
In your heart you wonder
Which of these is true;
The road that leads to nowhere,
The road that leads to you.
Will you find the answer
In all you say and do?
Will you find the answer
In you?
Each heart is a pilgrim,
Each one wants to know
The reason why the winds die
And where the stories go.
Pilgrim, in your journey
You may travel far,
For pilgrim its a long way
To find out who you are...
Pilgrim, its a long way
To find out who you are...
Pilgrim, its a long way
To find out who you are...
song performed by by Enya
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At least the Pilgrim Fathers used to shoot Indians: the Pilgrim Children merely punch time clocks.
quote by e.e. cummings
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Any biographer must of necessity become a pilgrim a peripatetic, obsessed literary pilgrim, a traveler with four eyes.
What Magic Is There
What magic is there in thy mien
What sorcery in thy smile,
Which charms away all cark and care,
Which turns the foul days into fair,
And for a little while
Changes this disenchanted scene
From the sere leaf into the green,
Transmuting with love's golden wand
This beggared life to fairyland?
My heart goes forth to thee, oh friend,
As some poor pilgrim to a shrine,
A pilgrim who has come from far
To seek his spirit's folding star,
And sees the taper shine;
The goal to which his wanderings tend,
Where want and weariness shall end,
And kneels ecstatically blest
Because his heart hath entered rest.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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A pilgrim is a wanderer with purpose.
quote by Peace Pilgrim
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Pilgrim`s Elevation!
A pilgrim treads the path
To reach the 'abode' of his God
With many joining him.
The hymns and the eulogies
Reverberate across the terrains and the mounts
With the 'eternity' still wrapped in mystery.
A world living apart is left behind
Waiting for a Samaritan
With his conscience transported.
Leaving everything to men with crowns and swords
Where is he heading for
With his destination never defined?
Take a diversion please,
And tell the ones close at your heels
With a mind that can do things.
A pilgrim has to be elevated
By being with the needy and the famished
With a spirit drawn from within.
It leaves not, it lives with you and
It has no destination but a destiny
With the'Almighty' still mighty when 'left' alone!
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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It is a pity that instead of the Pilgrim Fathers landing on Plymouth Rock, Plymouth Rock had not landed on the Pilgrim Fathers.
quote by Chauncey Depew
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Praying without ceasing is not ritualized, nor are there even words. It is a constant state of awareness of oneness with God.
quote by Peace Pilgrim
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Faint and Weary Toiled a Pilgrim
'Faint and weary toiled a pilgrim,
Faint and weary of his load;
Sudden came a sweet bird winging
Glad and swift across his road.
''Blessed songster!' cried the pilgrim,
'Where is now the load I bore?
I forget it in thy singing;
Hearing thee, I faint no more,'
'While he spoke the bird went winging
Higher still, and soared away;
'Cruel songster!' cried the pilgrim,
'Cruel songster not to stay!'
'Was the songster cruel? Never!
High above some other road
Glad and swift he still was singing,
Lightening other pilgrims' load!'
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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The Mayflowers
Sad Mayflower! watched by winter stars,
And nursed by winter gales,
With petals of the sleeted spars,
And leaves of frozen sails!
What had she in those dreary hours,
Within her ice-rimmed bay,
In common with the wild-wood flowers,
The first sweet smiles of May?
Yet, 'God be praised!' the Pilgrim said,
Who saw the blossoms peer
Above the brown leaves, dry and dead,
'Behold our Mayflower here!'
'God wills it: here our rest shall be,
Our years of wandering o'er;
For us the Mayflower of the sea
Shall spread her sails no more.'
O sacred flowers of faith and hope,
As sweetly now as then
Ye bloom on many a birchen slope,
In many a pine-dark glen.
Behind the sea-wall's rugged length,
Unchanged, your leaves unfold,
Like love behind the manly strength
Of the brave hearts of old.
So live the fathers in their sons,
Their sturdy faith be ours,
And ours the love that overruns
Its rocky strength with flowers!
The Pilgrim's wild and wintry day
Its shadow round us draws;
The Mayflower of his stormy bay,
Our Freedom's struggling cause.
But warmer suns erelong shall bring
To life the frozen sod;
And through dead leaves of hope shall spring
Afresh the flowers of God!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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The Greatness Of The World
Through the world which the Spirit creative and kind
First formed out of chaos, I fly like the wind,
Until on the strand
Of its billows I land,
My anchor cast forth where the breeze blows no more,
And Creation's last boundary stands on the shore.
I saw infant stars into being arise,
For thousands of years to roll on through the skies;
I saw them in play
Seek their goal far away,--
For a moment my fugitive gaze wandered on,--
I looked round me, and lo!--all those bright stars had flown!
Madly yearning to reach the dark kingdom of night.
I boldly steer on with the speed of the light;
All misty and drear
The dim heavens appear,
While embryo systems and seas at their source
Are whirling around the sun-wanderer's course.
When sudden a pilgrim I see drawing near
Along the lone path,--"Stay! What seekest thou here?"
"My bark, tempest-tossed,
I sail toward the land where the breeze blows no more,
And Creation's last boundary stands on the shore."
"Stay, thou sailest in vain! 'Tis INFINITY yonder!"--
"'Tis INFINITY, too, where thou, pilgrim, wouldst wander!
Eagle-thoughts that aspire,
Let your proud pinions tire!
For 'tis here that sweet phantasy, bold to the last,
Her anchor in hopeless dejection must cast!"
poem by Friedrich Schiller
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Corydon
A PASTORAL
SCENE: A roadside in Arcady
SHEPHERD.
Good sir, have you seen pass this way
A mischief straight from market-day?
You'd know her at a glance, I think;
Her eyes are blue, her lips are pink;
She has a way of looking back
Over her shoulder, and, alack!
Who gets that look one time, good sir,
Has naught to do but follow her.
PILGRIM.
I have not seen this maid, methinks,
Though she that passed had lips like pinks.
SHEPHERD.
Or like two strawberries made one
By some sly trick of dew and sun.
PILGRIM.
A poet!
SHEPHERD.
Nay, a simple swain
That tends his flock on yonder plain,
Naught else, I swear by book and bell.
But she that passed, you marked her well.
Was she not smooth as any be
That dwell herein in Arcady?
PILGRIM.
Her skin was as the satin bark
Of birches
SHEPHERD.
Light or dark?
PILGRIM.
Quite dark.
SHEPHERD.
Then 'twas not she.
PILGRIM.
The peach's side
That's next the sun is not so dyed
As was her cheek. Her hair hung down
Like summer twilight falling brown;
And when the breeze swept by, I wist
Her face was in a sombre mist.
SHEPHERD.
No, that is not the maid I seek.
Her hair lies gold against the cheek;
Her yellow tresses take the morn
Like silken tassles of the corn.
And yet--brown locks are far from bad.
PILGRIM.
Now I bethinks me, this one had
A figure like the willow-tree
Which, slight and supple, wondrously
Inclines to droop with pensive grace,
And still retains its proper place;
A foot so arched and very small
The marvel was she walked at all;
Her hand--in sooth I lack for words--
her hand, five slender snow-white birds.
Her voice--though she but said "God-speed"--
Was melody blown through a reed;
The girl Pan changed into a pipe
Had not a note so full and ripe.
And then her eye--my lad her eye!
Discreet, inviting, candid, shy,
An outward ice, an inward fire,
And lashes to the heart's desire--
Soft fringes blacker than the sloe.
SHEPHERD.
Good sir, which way did this one go?
PILGRIM, solus.
So, he is off! The silly youth
Knoweth not love in sober sooth.
He loves, thus lads at first are blind--
No woman, only Womankind.
I needs must laugh, for, by the Mass,
No maid at all did this way pass!
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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Pilgrim
A pilgrim at the grey of dawn
Leaving in the mist of morning
On his journey of goodness
Heaven sent, God blessed
Pilgrim laughing at the world
Spreading joy
At the touch of his hand
Wiping out all the misery
Making love and history
Those of us who dont know war
We shouldnt try to make it
So many did and even more died
Do you think you could take it?
Love lies waiting at my back door
Such a beautiful matter of fact
Lifes like an apple
With love as the core
And Ill tell you bout that
Just a man in my prime
Love was there
But I had no time
I was cheered and adored
And I thought fame
Was all the world
Battles won and victory cheers
Were the sounds
Id heard for years
But the women I really loved
Was losing me
To all this blood
I only knew I had to win
And build a world
Where I was king
But leaders come and leaders go
And thats the truth
I came to know
Love or war I couldnt choose
And so both
I had to lose
song performed by by Uriah Heep
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Between The Gates
Between the gates of birth and death
An old and saintly pilgrim passed,
With look of one who witnesseth
The long-sought goal at last.
O thou whose reverent feet have found
The Master's footprints in thy way,
And walked thereon as holy ground,
A boon of thee I pray.
'My lack would borrow thy excess,
My feeble faith the strength of thine;
I need thy soul's white saintliness
To hide the stains of mine.
'The grace and favor else denied
May well be granted for thy sake.'
So, tempted, doubting, sorely tried,
A younger pilgrim spake.
'Thy prayer, my son, transcends my gift;
No power is mine,' the sage replied,
'The burden of a soul to lift
Or stain of sin to hide.
'Howe'er the outward life may seem,
For pardoning grace we all must pray;
No man his brother can redeem
Or a soul's ransom pay.
'Not always age is growth of good;
Its years have losses with their gain;
Against some evil youth withstood
Weak hands may strive in vain.
'With deeper voice than any speech
Of mortal lips from man to man,
What earth's unwisdom may not teach
The Spirit only can.
'Make thou that holy guide thine own,
And following where it leads the way,
The known shall lapse in the unknown
As twilight into day.
'The best of earth shall still remain,
And heaven's eternal years shall prove
That life and death, and joy and pain,
Are ministers of Love.'
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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The Pilgrim and the Puritan whom we honor tonight were men who did a great deal of work in the world. They had their faults and their - shortcomings, but they were not slothful in business and they were most fervent in spirit.
quote by Henry Cabot Lodge
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The Year's Awakening
How do you know that the pilgrim track
Along the belting zodiac
Swept by the sun in his seeming rounds
Is traced by now to the Fishes' bounds
And into the Ram, when weeks of cloud
Have wrapt the sky in a clammy shroud,
And never as yet a tinct of spring
Has shown in the Earth's apparelling;
O vespering bird, how do you know,
How do you know?
How do you know, deep underground,
Hid in your bed from sight and sound,
Without a turn in temperature,
With weather life can scarce endure,
That light has won a fraction's strength,
And day put on some moments' length,
Whereof in merest rote will come,
Weeks hence, mild airs that do not numb;
O crocus root, how do you know,
How do you know?
poem by Thomas Hardy
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