To be a pilgrim

With a mind free of the usual clutter, I've noticed how long-buried stuff has floated to the surface.

While in France my head was filled with a tune from my childhood, Percy Dearmer's hymn, "He who would valiant be". In primary school assemblies I wondered what the strange phrases could mean.

Bit by bit, during the last 225 miles on the path, most of the hymn has fallen into place.

He who would valiant be 'gainst all disaster,
Let him in constancy follow the Master.
There's no discouragement shall make him once relent
His first avowed intent to be a pilgrim.

Who so beset him round with dismal stories
Do but themselves confound—his strength the more is.
No foes shall stay his might; though he with giants fight,
He will make good his right to be a pilgrim.

Since, Lord, Thou dost defend us with Thy Spirit,
We know we at the end, shall life inherit.
Then fancies flee away! I'll fear not what men say,
I'll labour night and day to be a pilgrim.

I make no claims to being valiant and my feeble efforts at being a pilgrim have fallen short of John Bunyan's, but it's been good to refresh my memory with a once-familiar song.