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Entries in spirituality (31)


The title poem from Steady, Pilgrim

Steady, pilgrim,
walk with grace.
The saint was wrong,
there is no race.
You make a road
for those behind
who know not
that your work is blind.

Each year a mile
from wilderness,
the path made straight,
the toil made less.

Each day a slab 
to smooth the track
for foot, for hoof,
for weary back.

Each hour a tree
to shade the head,
give fruit to quench,
make wine, be fed.

Each thought a sky,
unbounded space.
So, steady, pilgrim,
walk with grace
your unborn face.



Easter Hymn, by A E Housman

If in that Syrian garden, ages slain,
You sleep, and know not you are dead in vain,
Nor even in dreams behold how dark and bright
Ascends in smoke and fire by day and night
The hate you died to quench and could but fan,
Sleep well and see no morning, son of man.

But if, the grave rent and the stone rolled by,
At the right hand of majesty on high
You sit, and sitting so remember yet
Your tears, you agony and bloody sweat,
Your cross and passion and the life you gave,
Bow hither out of heaven and see and save. 


The Collected Poems of A E Housman, ISBN 1-85326-411-3