A Pilgrim Prayer Red, red the holly seeds in the heart of winter; Green, green the garland on the decorous door; Bright, bright the berries as descending stars. Christmas is coming, as we have come from afar. Kneel, kneel to the child adored, Who cried in a stable without any door. Weave the holy holly round, hoop the sharpened leaf; The season of cold is here, the hour of deep belief. Look, look to the stars, and count the beats of your heart. Deep glows the heart's desire, bright burns our woven art.