Richmond Enquirer

Come, listen to my story,
Tho' often told before.
Of men who passed to glory
Thro' toil and travail sore:
Of men who did, for conscience take
Their native land forego.
And sought a home and freedom here,
Two hundred years ago.

I.
O, 'twas no earthborn passion
That bade the adventurers stray;
The world and all its fashion,
With them had passed away.
A voice from Heaven bade them look
Above the things below,
When here they sought a resting place
Two hundred years ago.

II.
O, dark the scene and dreary,
When here they sat them down;
Storms rent the forest dreary,
And chill'd with winter's frown.
Deep moaned the forests to the wind,
Loud howl'd the savage foe;
While here their evening prayer arose,
Two hundred years ago.

III.
It would drown the heart in sorrow
To tell of all their woes;
Nor respite could they borrow
But from the grave's repose.
Yet naught could daunt the Pilgrim band,
Or sink their courage low,
Who came to plant the Gospel here
Two hundred years ago.

IV.
With humble prayer and fasting,
In every strait and grief,
They sought the Everlasting,
And found a sure relief.
Their Covenant God o'ershadowed them,
Their shield from every foe,
And gave them here a dwelling place
Two hundred years ago.

V.
Or fill New England's story
Thus laid the corner stone;
This prayer, to deathless glory,
Their triumph we own.
Prophetic eye foresaw in time,
"A mighty State should grow
From them, a few, faint Pilgrims then,
Two hundred years ago."

VI.
If greatness be in daring,
Our Pilgrim Sires were great;
When war, with horrors staring,
Disgrace and Famine wait,
And oft their treach'rous foes combined
To lay the stranger low,
While fondling here their Commonwealth
Two hundred years ago.

VII.
"But sternest obligations
In things by us deem'd light,
They were but duly fearing
Of power misusing might.
They nobly chose to part with all
My dear to us when below,
To worship here their God in peace
Two hundred years ago."

VIII.
Fair seed they sowed with weeping,
On their healthful harvests
Thee:
While still the fruits are reaping
Of Pilgrim enterprise.
Then grateful we to Heaven will pay
The debt of fame we owe,
She visited here the seed of life
Two hundred years ago.

IX.
As comes this period yearly,
Around our cheerful fire,
We'll think and feel how dearly
Our comfort cost their sire.
For them we'll watch the olive sod,
And bid the canna glow
With kindling of the flame of freedom here
Two hundred years ago.