A Pilgrim Poem: For All Who Long for a Better Country

Providence and the Pilgrim

By William Bradford (1590–1657)

Different Takes on the Pilgrim Poem

Literary critics might call Bradford’s poem stiff and awkward. Secular critics could call it the religious rant of  a fanatical “fundamentalist.”

But pilgrims like me call it thankful words of a faithful heart. Thankful words that trump the grumps. 

We find in Bradford’s carefully crafted iambic pentameter a humble testimony to a saint so near to God, and so infused with his Word that it could not but overflow.

As we read the aa, bb, cc rhyme scheme we hear a man dependent on and devoted to his Sovereign God to provide and to guide, to console and to chastise, and, finally, to bless and redeem his own.

Bradford Knew

Bradford knew Psalm 146 , not to trust in princes, in mortal man who cannot save. He was blessed, he knew, whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord his God. William Bradford knew this. He saw English benefactors bow out and promised provisions fail.

And he knew Psalm 78:52, and applied it, when God led out his people like sheep and guided them in the wilderness like a flock. From experience, he knew. He was guided in the wilderness and God provided food as from a rock, corn in baskets, eels.

Bradford knew 2 Corinthians, too. His was the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who consoled him when he lost his wife before in Plymouth Bay and lost one half of his friends that first devastating winter.

Bradford leaned hard on this God. His God.

He longed for that time, that time Paul described in 1 Corinthians 15 when that happy change shall come.

He knew from Hebrews 4 that there remains a rest for the people of God. And he strove hard and fought sin’s death to enter the promised Sabbath rest.

Bradford knew, too, what his children should do when God called him home. He knew Moses’ words in Deuteronomy 13:4, to walk after the LORD and fear him and keep his commandments and obey his voice, and you shall serve him and hold fast to him. Bradford knew.

Pilgrims Lift Their Eyes

Bradford was a Pilgrim. To the 17th-century mind, a pilgrim was someone on a journey with a particular destination in mind. So if we only think of the Mayflower and Squanto and the Great Thanksgiving Feast or buckles and black hats and white collars, we’re missing an important piece. To be a pilgrim meant so much more.

“The time having come when they must depart, they were accompanied [to] Delfthaven, where the ship lay ready to take them. So they left that good and pleasant city, which had been their resting place for nearly twelve years; but they knew they were pilgrims, and lifted up their eyes to the heavens, their dearest country, and quieted their spirits.” (William Bradford, Of Plimoth Plantation)

The journey didn’t end when their shallops hit the sandy shore. Yes, the Pilgrims bowed and prayed their thanks to God. But they knew they weren’t home yet. They knew they’d not arrived.

At least William Bradford knew. He was looking for a better country.

Now I will wait, when work is done,

Until my happy change shall come,

When from my labors I shall rest,

With Christ above for to be blest.

Bradford sought this better country; he knew he was a pilgrim, a saint and stranger both.

When with Bradford we seek the better country and the Christ who prepares it for us—and us for it—then we are pilgrims too

“These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth. For they that say such things declare plainly that they seek a country. And truly, if they had been mindful of that country from whence they came out, they might have had opportunity to have returned. But now they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly: therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God: for he has prepared for them a city.” 

—Hebrews 11:13-16  (KJV)