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 gauge;
  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 quiet palmer,
Travelleth towards...