Poem by Thomas Tillam (Puritan)
Upon the First Sight of New England June 29, 1638

Hail holy land wherein our holy Lord Hath planted his most true and holy word;
Hail happy people who have dispossessed Yourselves of friends, and means,
to find some rest For your poor wearied souls,
oppressed of late For Jesus’ sake, with envy, spite, and hate;
To you that blessed promise truly’s given Of sure reward, which you’ll receive in Heaven.
Methinks I hear the lamb of God thus speak: Come my dear little flock, who for my sake
Have left your country, dearest friends, and goods
And hazarded your lives o’th raging floods. Possess this country; free from all annoy
Here I’ll be with you, here you shall enjoy
My Sabbaths, sacraments, my ministry and ordinances in their purity.
Buy yet beware of Satan’s wily baits; he lurks among you, cunningly he waits to catch you from me.
Live not then secure but fight’ gainst sin, and let your lives be pure.
Prepare to hear your sentence thus expressed:
Come ye my servants of my Father Blessed.