Poem October 30, 1954 Issue

THE PILGRIM'S WELCOME

Jeannette Hulst Johansson

Friend whose way leads past our door,
Here your pilgrim feet may stay.
Rest beside the flowing spring
And wash the travel dust away.
Put aside your pilgrim staff.
Doff the penitential garb.
We whose hearts are filled with praise
Once wandered, too, and traveled far.

We, too, lay on stony ground
Wrapped in tattered pilgrim's cloak,
Heard the fox bark harsh and near,
Felt the earth chill, slept and woke,
Watched the slow, slow swing of stars
While waiting for the night to pass,
Then when dawn winds touched the trees,
Took our way through dew-bowed grass.

Did you, too, hear the voice of Love,
Did it bring you to this place?
Did you mark the song-filled air,
Greet the sun with upturned face?
Would you share the bread of Life,
Done with solitude and gloam?
Here are family, warmth, and food;
Pilgrim, stranger, welcome home.

Jeannette Hulst Johansson

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