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Edwardtide Digital Pilgrimage

On Saturday 18th October, pilgrims will visit Westminster Abbey to remember the life and legacy of Edward the Confessor. Edward's Shrine lies at the heart of the Abbey, and pilgrims throughout the centuries have found themselves there, kneeling in the stone niches to pray. This year, you can participate from wherever you call home.

Although you may not be able to join us in person this year, we want to invite you to partake in this digital pilgrimage around Westminster Abbey during Edwardtide (13th -20th October 2025). 

Make yourself a cup of tea, and find a quiet space. We recommend having a pen and paper nearby. You also may choose to light a candle or do something else to help yourself enter into this time. 

As you scroll, you'll find a series of images, poems and prose, and reflections which will transport you around Westminster Abbey, following in the footsteps of pilgrims today to reflect on Edward's life.

Finally, you'll be invited to share any reflections you have at the end of the pilgrimage.

Thank you for joining us on pilgrimage.

West Front Entry Revised
Map 2025 Landscape
The Lord is in his holy temple; the Lord’s throne is in heaven.

The Lord is in his holy temple; the Lord’s throne is in heaven.

Excerpt from The History of Saint Edward the King

Matthew Paris

[Edward] was named king of England, anointed and crowned. The prelate of Canterbury, the archbishop who was primate of the kingdom, wasted no time in anointing and consecrating him. The clergy and knights came in a large company, as well as the man who governs and guides the prelacy of York, for the celebration was open to monastery, city, and hall. There was no one who did not feel joy and happiness, who did not praise the Creator. They prayed to God to protect their rightful lord Edward for a long time.   

Westminster Abbey is a place of Kings. Before you, in St George’s Chapel, sits one of the most potent reminders of that fact: The Coronation Chair. For over seven-hundred years, this chair has been at the heart of almost every coronation up to the present day. Made on the orders of Edward I in 1300, a figure of a king, his feet resting on a lion, is painted on the back. This is possibly Edward I, or reaching back to the Abbey’s founding as a place of kings, Edward the Confessor.

 

The Abbey is a place of kings, and it is also a place for all who walk through its doors. The Coronation Chair bears the marks of years and people: children carving their names, places where the paint is worn by time and touch, even a corner knocked off by a suffragette bomb. Those many hands contribute to its story, not just the crowned heads that have sat upon it. As we follow the footsteps of those thousands of pilgrims who have entered the Abbey over the centuries, to wonder and to pray, we contribute to the story of this place, marking it with our footsteps even as we open ourselves to be changed by God who is ruler of all.

Let us lift up our hearts as well as our hands to God in heaven.

Let us lift up our hearts as well as our hands to God in heaven.

Listen to the poem here

Sursum Corda

Christina Rossetti

I cannot, Lord, lift up my heart to Thee: 
Stoop, lift it up, that where Thou art I too may be. 
“Give Me thy heart.” I would not say Thee nay, 
But have no power to keep or give away 
My heart: stoop, Lord, and take it to Thyself today. 


Stoop, Lord, as once before, now once anew  
Stoop, Lord, and hearken, hearken, Lord, and do,  
And take my will, and take my heart, and take me too.  

What does it mean to be ‘transported’? For a pilgrim, the fact of travel is as important as the destination – the movement of the spirit mirroring the movement of the feet. For those of us online, our movement of pilgrimage may be more virtual or metaphorical than physical, but however we have arrived here, we have come in the hope of being transported in spirit. 

 

That movement, that transportation, did not stop as you clicked on this link to begin your digital pilgrimage. This is an arrival, but it is also a beginning. That movement of the spirit is never complete, as we continually seek to follow in the footsteps of our Lord and open our hearts to him. Christina Rosetti captures this in her poem Sursum Corda. It is a poem full of movement; of Christ moving towards us even as our hearts yearn towards him. But for Rossetti, we need to be helped in our transportation to God by his grace, as he takes our hearts, our wills, our whole selves to himself.

 

As you move through the screen – another gateway – we move towards the place where our hearts our lifted up: the altar where Christ stoops to draw us to himself.

Be transformed by the renewing of your minds

Be transformed by the renewing of your minds

Listen to the poem here

Carol Three: The Seven Works of Mercy

John Audley

Fede the hungeré; the thirsté gif drenke; 

Clothe the nakid, as Y youe say; 

Vesid the pore in presun lyyng; 

Beré the ded, now I thee pray — 

I cownsel thee. 

Wele is him and wele  

schal be, 

That doth the Seven  

Werkis of Mercé. 

 

Herber the pore that goth be the way; 

Teche the unwyse of thi conyng; 

Do these dedis nyght and day, 

Thi soule to heven hit wil thee bryng — 

I cownsel thee. 

Wele is him and wele  

schal be, 

That doth the Seven  

Werkis of Mercé. 

Feed the hungry; the thirsty give drink; 

Clothe the naked as to you I say; 

Visit the poor in prison lying; 

Bury the dead, now I thee pray –  

I counsel thee. 

Well is he, and well shall  

he be, 

That does the Seven  

Works of Mercy. 

 

Harbour the poor that goeth by the way; 

Teach the unwise of thy cunning; 

Do these deeds night and day, 

Thy soul to heaven’s height will thee bring –  

I counsel thee. 

Well is he, and well shall he be, 

That does the Seven  

Works of Mercy. 

As we are transported in body and in spirit in pilgrimage, we are called to be transformed by the experience. The saint who lies at the centre of our celebration inspiring us by his life and witness to ‘go and do likewise.’ (Luke 10:37)

 

Above the Great North Door of the Abbey are a series of windows depicting the Acts of Mercy that Jesus describes in Matthew 25: feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, clothing the naked, harbouring the stranger, visiting the sick, and ministering to prisoners. In the time when John Audley was writing his carols, a seventh had been added based on the Book of Tobit: burying the dead. Osbert of Clare wrote a life of Edward in the 1130s, in which he describes Edward as feeding the poor and clothing the naked. Not only that, but Edward’s generous almsgiving was often done in secret, emphasising that the act was done out of true charity, not a desire to just be seen as a generous king. Many stories of Edward’s healing emphasise his care for the most vulnerable and attention paid to those who were outcasts, such as carrying a beggar himself into church, and touching a woman with a disfiguring skin disease. In these stories, we see the inspiration of Jesus, who so often touched the untouchable, and did not pass by those who called out to him. 

The glory of the Lord filled his temple

The glory of the Lord filled his temple

Listen to the poem here

An Excerpt from Vie de seint Aedward le Rei

Matthew of Paris

Just as the history testifies,  

Of the love and devotion of King Edward, the reason for which  

This church, which was almost entirely   

Fallen down and long ago destroyed...  

To restore, to put in to a proper condition  

Under a prelate he had often wished,  

And to enrich with rich gifts  

Of treasure and possessions;   

His body he grants to it and intends  

That he be buried in this church...  

Now he laid the foundations of the church  

With large square blocks of grey stone...  

The work rises grand and royal,   

Sculptured are the stones  

And storied the windows;  

All are made with the skill  

Of a good and loyal workmanship 

In Edward’s time, charity wasn’t just about giving alms to the poor and destitute. Giving to the Church was an important part of a moral life, and Edward’s generosity to the Church is mentioned in the same paragraphs as his generosity to his fellow man. To build and endow an Abbey dedicated to St Peter was a clear statement of his wealth and power, his devotion to God and St Peter, and his status as a man who was holy in a way that his predecessors had not been. Moving the centre of royal state and ecclesiastical power away from Winchester to Westminster consolidated Edward’s position both as king and as a generous and good man who would leave his own holy legacy, buried in the church that he had built.  

 

When Edward set out to build his Abbey, he was transforming a derelict small monastery set on a marshy island into a glorious royal church dedicated to the Prince of the Apostles – and he did not do it alone. Edward commissioned it in 1042, and the abbey wasn’t consecrated until 1065. In those over twenty years, hundreds of good and loyal workmen used their skill to quarry, haul and place stone upon stone, not to mention the carpenters, specialist artisans, and general labourers, without whose hands there would be no Abbey. We do not remember them as we remember Edward, but even nameless, we can give thanks for their craft.  

For he was a good man, full of the Holy Spirit and of faith

For he was a good man, full of the Holy Spirit and of faith

Listen to the poem here

An Excerpt from Being Disciples

Rowan Williams

A holy person makes you see things in yourself and around you that you had not seen before; that is to say, enlarges the world rather than shrinking it. This is why we say of Jesus that he is the ‘most Holy One,’ because he above all changes the landscape, casts a new light on everything.   

 

A holy person is somebody who is not afraid to be at the tough points in the centre of what it’s like to be a human being... holy people, however much they may enjoy being themselves, are not obsessively interested in themselves. They allow you to see not them, but the world around them. They allow you to see not them, but God... Becoming holy is being so taken over by the extraordinariness of God that that is what you are really interested in, and that is what radiates from you to reflect on other people

It can be tempting to see saints as somehow ‘otherworldly’ creatures, not quite made of the same stuff as we are. It can be even easier with a saint like Edward, who lived almost a thousand years ago, and, as a king, was already elevated in worldly status above those around him. Although, as we have seen, he was not above touching and caring for the outcasts of his society. But saints are extraordinary in their humanity, as well as in their ability to point towards God. Edward had times of struggle, an extremely difficult relationship with his mother, periods of exile, illness, and scholars still debate how effective he actually was as a king. As Rowan Williams says, holy people are not removed from the world, but allow us to see it through different eyes.

 

This Chapel was dedicated to St Nicholas, and after the Reformation, some of the most powerful people in the land wanted to be buried in the centre of power. Now it is filled with monuments to those people, but it is not just the great and the good buried at the Abbey. In the South Cloister is the grave of an Eighteenth-Century Abbey plumber, and carpenters, gardeners and many others of the often unseen and unknown people who kept the Abbey working are scattered throughout the buildings. All kinds of people are buried in the Abbey, just as all kinds of people walk through its doors. We may not have a huge monument to our memories, but we are children of God just as they were.  

 

Saints are not removed from us, because they are us. We may know holy people – ordinary, extraordinary people who, through their words and actions, show us something of God present with us. We are called to be saints. Perhaps not with miraculous healings or visions of the future, but by making the extraordinariness of God real to people, and not being afraid to be at the tough points in the centre of what it’s like to be a human being.  

Let all that you do be done in love

Let all that you do be done in love

An Excerpt from Vie de seint Aedward le Rei

Matthew of Paris

...The king was at the service,  

Where was dedicated the church 

Of Saint John, who to God was dear 

And whom the king could so much love; 

No Saint had he so dear except Saint Peter. 

Lo a poor man, who was there,  

A stranger and unknown, 

When he saw King Edward, 

For the love of Saint John prays him, 

That of his possessions he would give him a part... 

 

...And he reflects, remains silent, 

Looks at his hand, and remembers 

That on his finger he had a cherished ring 

To the poor man he gives it for the love of Saint John, his dear lord... 

 

...Soon after it chanced that 

Two palmers of English birth, 

Who got to seek the Holy Sepulchre 

By a path where no one guides them... 

 

The dark night surprises them.

 

Now behold a band of youths 

In a circle which was very large and beautiful... 

...And an old man white and hoary, 

Brighter than the sun at midday... 

...Salutes them; says “Dear friends, 

Whence come you?... 

 

[The old man leads them to a hostel where they spend the night.] 

 

...In the morning when they depart, 

They find their host and leader, 

Who, when they have issued from the gate,  

Gently thus comforts them: 

“Be not troubled nor sad: 

I am John the Evangelist; 

For love of Edward the king 

I neither will nor ought to fail you, 

For he is my especial 

Friend and loyal king, 

With me he has joined company;  

Since he has chosen to lead a chaste life, 

We shall be peers in Paradise.  

And I tell you, dear good friends, 

You shall arrive, be assured,  

In your country safe and sound: 

You shall go to King Edward,  

Salute him from me, 

And that you attempt not a falsehood 

To say, you shall carry proofs-- 

A ring, which he will know, 

Which he gave to me John, 

When he was at the service, 

Where my church was dedicated; 

There I besought him for the love 

Of John; it was I in poor array. 

And let King Edward know well, 

To me he shall come before six months (are over), 

And since he resembles me,  

In paradise shall we be together; 

And that of this he may be confidently assured 

You shall tell him all whatever I tell you.” 

This Abbey is dedicated to St Peter: a saint to whom Edward had a special devotion. But St Peter was not the only saint that Edward loved and venerated, he was also devoted to St John the Evangelist. So much so, that one of the main stories of his sainthood revolves around St John.

 

When you look at images of Edward around the Abbey and beyond, you may notice that he is holding a large ring. The ring was Edward’s own, but one day, having attended the dedication of a new church to St John the Evangelist, he was approached by a beggar asking for alms. Edward had no coin on him, so instead drew a beloved ring off his finger and gave it to the unknown beggar. Some years later, two pilgrims returning from Jerusalem became lost, and were helped by an old man. The next morning, the man gave them a ring and told them to return to it Edward when they reached England again. When they asked him who he was, he told them he was St John the Evangelist, and to tell the king that the king would come to live with him ‘in six months.’ Six months later, having received the ring, Edward died. In this painting, you can see the ring in the fingers of his hand, and he was probably handing it to a figure of John the Evangelist on his right. The images of Saints were destroyed in the Reformation, but an image of a King would have been considered to have too much power in a different way to destroy.

 

For those hearing the tale at the time, St John telling Edward that he would come and live with him would have been a clear sign of his saintliness: only saints would go straight to heaven. But it also shows how different kinds of virtue were considered part of a larger ecosystem of living a holy life. Edward’s generosity is not separate from his love of saints; that love spills over into protection for his subjects on pilgrimage. His role as a builder (attending a new church dedicated to St John, building the Abbey when he couldn’t go on pilgrimage himself) is one of the things that opens him to experiencing such miracles. At the time, there was not the same distinction between ‘sacred and secular’ as we understand it today. Instead, all that Edward was and did was part of a web of holiness, so that St John could say that Edward resembled him.

But blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your ears, for they hear

But blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your ears, for they hear

Listen to the poem here

An Excerpt from Macbeth

William Shakespeare

A most miraculous work in this good king,  

Which often since my here-remain in England  

I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven  

Himself best knows, but strangely visited people  

All swoll’n and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,  

The mere despair of surgery, he cures, 

Hanging a golden stamp about their necks,  

Put on with holy prayers; and, ’tis spoken,  

To the succeeding royalty he leaves  

The healing benediction. With this strange virtue,  

He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy, 

And sundry blessings hang about his throne  

That speak him full of grace. 

As a saint, Edward was known particularly for his gifts of healing, and his gift of prophecy. In the Shrine, if you look at the frieze at the top of the Altar Screen, you can see images of some of those miracles. There were many types of healing, but his most frequent healings, according to chroniclers, were the restoration of sight to the blind. In each telling, the water in which Edward has washed his hands is used to wash the eyes of the afflicted, and they can see again. 

 

This restoration of sight links to some of Edward’s other miracles that revolve around sight. On one occasion, he laughed at the beginning of a service, and told his companions that it was because he saw the Danish King, who was threatening to invade, had fallen to his death in the sea. At another service, when the priest held up the bread after its consecration, Edward saw the person of Christ present with them. This gift of sight Shakespeare refers to as ‘a heavenly gift of prophecy.’ 

 

For some, this emphasis on vision in Edward’s life is linked to who he was as a Holy Person. At the time, light and sight were considered holy, and darkness associated with sin. Edward’s ability to restore sight, and to see what was truly there, showed that he could see with “the eyes of the heart.” By not focusing on the earthly, but rather seeing through to the heavenly, he allowed others to see along with him.   

They will rest from their labours, for their deeds follow them

They will rest from their labours, for their deeds follow them

Listen to the poem here

When Great Trees Fall

Maya Angelou

When great trees fall, 

rocks on distant hills shudder, 

lions hunker down 

in tall grasses, 

and even elephants 

lumber after safety. 

 

When great trees fall 

in forests, 

small things recoil into silence, 

their senses 

eroded beyond fear.

 

When great souls die, 

the air around us becomes 

light, rare, sterile. 

We breathe, briefly. 

Our eyes, briefly, 

see with 

a hurtful clarity. 

Our memory, suddenly sharpened, 

examines, 

gnaws on kind words 

unsaid, 

promised walks 

never taken. 

 

Great souls die and 

our reality, bound to 

them, takes leave of us. 

Our souls, 

dependent upon their 

nurture, 

now shrink, wizened. 

Our minds, formed 

and informed by their 

radiance, 

fall away. 

We are not so much maddened 

as reduced to the unutterable ignorance 

of dark, cold 

caves. 

 

And when great souls die, 

after a period peace blooms, 

slowly and always 

irregularly. Spaces fill 

with a kind of 

soothing electric vibration. 

Our senses, restored, never 

to be the same, whisper to us. 

They existed. They existed. 

We can be. Be and be 

better. For they existed.

‘When great souls die, after a period peace blooms’

 

Edward the Confessor died after a series of probable strokes on the 5th January, 1066. He was too weak to attend the consecration of the Abbey, and although he left behind a kingdom arguably more peaceable than when he ascended to the throne, the idea of his death bringing peace would have seemed laughable considering the events of 1066.

 

When we lose someone who was a fundamental presence in our lives, in relation to whom we define ourselves (for example, as child, friend or parent), the loss can be cataclysmic. Maya Angelou captures that utter changing of a world, and what can come after it: the seeming reduction of ourselves to something less than we were before, because that person is not there.

 

But Angelou also captures the growth that can come after. Edward has been lost to us for nearly a thousand years, but he has nevertheless been very present: initially in his tomb before the Altar, now in his Shrine. Edward points us toward God, enlarging our senses ‘never to be the same’ to see the presence of God in the world, that we can be. Be and be better. For they existed.    

Shrine Image

Conclusion

You've now reached the end of your pilgrimage around Westminster Abbey. We invite you to look at the image above of Edward the Confessor's Shrine and say a prayer, or reflect on your experience of these words and Edward's life. 

 

You may find you would like to reflect a bit in writing. If so, please do share your reflections with us and give us feedback on your digital experience. 

 

Thank you for journeying with us this Edwardtide.

At different times of the day, or in different seasons, the light falling in the Abbey will light up something that you have walked past a million times and never seen before.

Vanessa, Head of Conservation

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