A poem by John Bunyan

This was modified by Percy Dearmer into what is one of The Tablet readers’ most loved hymns.

He who would valiant be,

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.
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.
Hobgoblin nor foul fiend

Can daunt his spirit;

He knows he at the end

Shall life inherit.

Then, fancies, fly away,

He’ll not fear what men say;

He’ll labour night and day

To be a pilgrim.
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