I believe this poem, or at least part of it, was put to music in The Wedding Cantata by Daniel Pinkham. I will try to dig up the video I saw on YouTube of a concert of this piece, because it's absolutely gorgeous, and so is the poetry.

I should also point out that I sang this piece in a choir once, which is why I remember it so well. I'm searching now, if the poem is not in this specific piece, I definitely sang it as some point, because I remember the words as being sung, and I wouldn't have seen this poem otherwise.

This is going to kill me because I can't figure out which musical setting I once knew! I know the poem really well, and have "I sung it" lingering on my tongue, but I can't seem to find the setting I sang!

Alas, poor me, this will drive me to insanity!

I just found this video on Youtube putting the first half of this poem to music. I don't know if it's the one you're talking about, but it's a pretty melody.

No, it's not that one, but thanks for trying.

I checked YouTube and everywhere else I might have found it, and I can't. If I could remember the melody it would seriously help. All I know is what ISN'T the melody I remember, but can't come up with the one I do. It's pretty obnoxious.

Sorry for the skipped day again. My computer got a worm and had to go away to have its hard-drive scrubbed. So I'll post from work.

294. "The Passionate Man's Pilgrimage, " by Sir Walter Raleigh. It must have been quite a sensation to once have been able to believe so whole-heartedly that such a fate awaited us.

GIVE me my scallop-shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon,
My scrip of joy, immortal diet,
My bottle of salvation,
My gown of glory, hope's true gage ;
And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.

Blood must be my body's balmer,
No other balm will there be given ;
Whilst my soul, like a quiet palmer,
Travelleth towards the land of heaven ;
Over the silver mountains,
Where spring the nectar fountains :
There will I kiss
The bowl of bliss ;
And drink mine everlasting fill
Upon every milken hill :
My soul will be a-dry before ;
But after, it will thirst no more.
Then by that happy blestful day,
More peaceful pilgrims I shall see,
That have cast off their rags of clay,
And walk apparelled fresh like me.
I'll take them first
To quench their thirst,
And taste of nectar suckets,
At those clear wells
Where sweetness dwells
Drawn up by saints in crystal buckets.

And when our bottles and all we
Are filled with immortality,
Then the blessed paths we'll travel,
Strowed with rubies thick as gravel ;
Ceilings of diamonds, sapphire floors,
High walls of coral, and pearly bowers.
From thence to heavens's bribeless hall,
Where no corrupted voices brawl ;
No conscience molten into gold,
No forged accuser bought or sold,
No cause deferred, nor vain-spent journey ;
For there Christ is the King's Attorney,
Who pleads for all without degrees,
And he hath angels, but no fees.
And when the grand twelve-million jury
Of our sins, with direful fury,
'Gainst our souls black verdicts give,
Christ pleads his death, and then we live.

Be thou my speaker, taintless pleader,
Unblotted lawyer, true proceeder !
Thou giv'st salvation even for alms ;
Not with a bribèd lawyer's palms.
And this is my eternal plea
To him that made heaven, earth, and sea,
That, since my flesh must die so soon,
And want a head to dine next noon,
Just at the stroke, when my veins start and spread,
Set on my soul an everlasting head.
Then am I ready, like a palmer fit ;
To tread those blest paths which before I writ.

DWill wrote:Sorry for the skipped day again. My computer got a worm and had to go away to have its hard-drive scrubbed. So I'll post from work.

294. "The Passionate Man's Pilgrimage, " by Sir Walter Raleigh. It must have been quite a sensation to once have been able to believe so whole-heartedly that such a fate awaited us.

*My bold

Too bad about your computer. Not just sensational, but comforting. Having just been to the funeral of a friend, who was not religious, I was struck by how much time was spent describing heaven. I realize that it is for the solace of the left behind. It seemed a bit crazy to me at the time. When I spend time thinking about the void I really get why there seems to be such a drive to believe in something bigger and better than a human.

Very true. It seems to many people that at such times one just has to talk about the "better place" the person has gone to, to ease the sting of the world-without-him/her feeling. But I'm like you and would like to issue instructions that this not be done at my own funeral.

Oh my goodness.....just look at all of the drinking/liquid/thirst similies, metaphors, images. And that in this heat over here! Interesting that we go from heavy liquid imagery to dryness to bliss. Interesting poem but can't say I like it.

oblivion wrote:Oh my goodness.....just look at all of the drinking/liquid/thirst similies, metaphors, images. And that in this heat over here! Interesting that we go from heavy liquid imagery to dryness to bliss. Interesting poem but can't say I like it.

We here in Virginia are back into the heavy moist heat that the DC area is known for -- all I can say is, "yuck!"

Mu computer is still having the demons cast from it, so the poem postings could be sporadic until I get it back.

293. Psalm 23, by...I guess, King David? I'll start with the most famous translation, King James, and add a couple of the countless other translations out there.

THE LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2 He makes me to lie down in agreen pastures: he leadeth me beside the bstill waters.
3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for
thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; thou anointest my
head with oil; my cup runneth over.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell
in the house of the LORD for ever.

New Revised Standard

1 The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want.
2 He makes me lie down in green pastures;
he leads me beside still waters;
3 he restores my soul.
He leads me in right pathsc
for his name’s sake.
4 Even though I walk through the darkest valley,d
I fear no evil;
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff—
they comfort me.
5 You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
6 Surelye goodness and mercyf shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD
my whole life long.

Rheims-Douay (Catholic)

THE Lord ruleth me: and I shall want nothing. 2 He hath set me in a place of pasture.
He hath brought me up, on the water of refreshment: 3 he hath converted my soul.
He hath led me on paths of justice, for his own name’s sake.
4 For though I should walk in the midst of the shadow of death, I will fear no evils, for
thou art with me.
Thy rod and thy staff, they have comforted me.
5 Thou hast prepared a table before me, against them that afflict me.
Thou hast anointed my head with oil; and my chalice which inebriateth me, how goodly
is it!
6 And thy mercy will follow me all the days of my life.
And that I may dwell in the house of the Lord unto length of days.

292. "The Cherry Tree-Carol," by anonymous. This is an early religious folk song.

JOSEPH was an old man,
and an old man was he,
When he wedded Mary,
in the land of Galilee.
Joseph and Mary walked
through an orchard good,
Where was cherries and berries,
so red as any blood.
Joseph and Mary walked
through an orchard green,
Where was berries and cherries,
as thick as might be seen.
O then bespoke Mary,
so meek and so mild:
‘Pluck me one cherry, Joseph,
for I am with child.’
O then bespoke Joseph,
with words most unkind:
‘Let him pluck thee a cherry
that brought thee with child.’
O then bespoke the babe,
within his mother’s womb:
‘Bow down then the tallest tree,
for my mother to have some.’
Then bowed down the highest tree
unto his mother’s hand;
Then she cried, See, Joseph,
I have cherries at command.
O then bespake Joseph:
‘I have done Mary wrong;
But cheer up, my dearest,
and be not cast down.’
Then Mary plucked a cherry,
as red as the blood,
Then Mary went home
with her heavy load.
Then Mary took her babe,
and sat him on her knee,
Saying, My dear son, tell me
what this world will be.
‘O I shall be as dead, mother,
as the stones in the wall;
O the stones in the streets, mother,
shall mourn for me all.
‘Upon Easter-day, mother,
my uprising shall be;
O the sun and the moon, mother,
shall both rise with me.’