Edwardtide Digital Pilgrimage

On Saturday 17th 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 -18th October 2026).

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.

Longing

My soul hath a desire and longing to enter into the courts of the Lord.
(Psalm 84:2, Book of Common Prayer)

Up-Hill

Christina Rossetti

Does the road wind up-hill all the way?

Yes, to the very end.

Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?

From morn to night, my friend...

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?

Those who have gone before.

Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?

They will not keep you standing at that door.

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?

Of labour you shall find the sum.

Will there be beds for me and all who seek?

Yea, beds for all who come.

Edward the Confessor knew all about journeys, leaving home and returning again. Like us, he did not know what lay ahead.

He was born at Islip in Oxfordshire (c. 1002–05), the son of King Ethelred the Unready and Queen Emma. Invasion and political upheaval drove him from England, and much of his early life was spent in exile in Normandy. When he returned, England had changed, and so had he.

Tradition tells us that, while in exile, Edward vowed that if he ever returned safely to his kingdom, he would make a pilgrimage to St Peter’s in Rome. But once on the throne he found he could not leave his people, so the Pope released him from the vow on the condition that he would build or restore a monastery to St Peter. He chose to rebuild the monastery beside his royal palace at Westminster, creating a large cruciform Romanesque church, which was later rebuilt by Henry III as the Gothic cathedral of Westminster Abbey you are now standing in.

Edward never made his pilgrimage to Rome, but instead pilgrims have been coming to visit his Shrine, finding ‘beds for all who come’, to echo Rossetti, at least in the spiritual sense.

Traditionally, when a person first stood before the door of a monastery and knocked, the abbot would ask a question: ‘Quid petis?’ (‘What do you seek?’) to which the traditional response was ‘Mercy!’ both the mercy of God and of the order.

What do you seek today? You may be longing for a deeper communion with God or perhaps you are seeking something else – healing, understanding, mercy, spiritual companionship? Whatever your reason for coming here, all are welcome.

What longing has brought you here today? Where in your life do you sense God drawing you forwards?

God of our pilgrimage,
you know the longings of our hearts.
Welcome us as we arrive,
draw us closer to you as we journey,
be our companion on the way,
teach our hearts and lead us where you would have us go;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

Promises

Thou hast anointed my head with oil, and my cup shall be full
(Psalm 23:5, Book of Common Prayer)

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.’ 

On Easter Day 1043, Edward was consecrated king at Winchester and anointed by Archbishop Eadsige of Canterbury. According to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, he was also publicly instructed in his duties. The coronation tradition expected the king to make three promises to seek peace, restrain wrongdoing, and uphold justice and mercy.

The anointing and coronation were not for his own benefit but were signs of his authority, vocation, and commitment to seek the good of all in his realm. He was called to humility in exercising that authority before God and his neighbour, as reflected in the Deuteronomy 17:20 where the king is to keep God’s law beside him, so that ‘his heart be not lifted up above his brethren’.

We do not have the original coronation chair from Winchester Cathedral where Edward the Confessor was crowned. But before you stands the Coronation Chair made around 1300 and used ever since for coronations. For all its history though, it remains a surprisingly modest wooden chair, carved with graffiti from earlier generations of Westminster schoolboys.

Few of us will experience a moment as dramatic as a coronation. Yet like monarchs, we too live by promises about how we will live and who or what we will care for. Some are made publicly at baptism, marriage or ordination, for example; others we take on more informally whether at work or at home.

Such promises can sometimes be more costly to us than we expected when we first made them. We may feel tired of being the dependable one or we may just need more support to fulfil them.

Faithfulness to our promises and to God cannot be kept up by sheer willpower alone. That is why, when we make promises in the church, we ask for God’s help in living them out. ‘With the help of God, I will,’ we respond in the Church of England’s baptism service as we make our vows to be Christ’s disciples. We cannot do it alone, nor are we asked to do so.

Whose wellbeing has been entrusted to me? Where do I need God’s grace?

Faithful God,
you know the promises we have made
and the responsibilities we carry.
When we are weary, give us rest;
when we are uncertain, give us direction;
when we fail, forgive us.
Strengthen and help us to keep faith
and to keep going
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

Labour

Prosper thou the work of our hands upon us: O prosper thou our handywork.
(Psalm 90:17)

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

When Edward set out to build his Abbey, he transformed a small monastery into a great royal church dedicated to St Peter. Work began around 1050, and the church was finally consecrated in 1065, just days before Edward’s death.

But Edward did not build his Abbey alone.

Over many years, countless people quarried, carried and laid stone upon stone. Carpenters and other craftsmen brought their special skills to a building whose future they could only imagine. Each was a little part of the whole, but together they built a cathedral. Centuries later, when Henry III rebuilt Edward’s church, another generation did the same creative work to erect the magnificent Abbey in which you stand.

So while the Abbey remembers the names of the kings and queens buried here, it also bears the work of innumerable hands whose labour built and sustained it behind the scenes. Most of their names are unknown — with a few exceptions, such as Philip Clarke, an eighteenth-century Abbey plumber buried in the South Cloister.

Each of us has inherited from those before us: people who have loved us, taught us, prayed for us, challenged us, but also all those unnamed people whose contributions have shaped the world we live in.

One day, we hope others will receive something of value from us. Much of our own labour happens out of public view as we work, prepare meals, care for parents, children or friends, volunteer, and keep things going without fanfare or public acclaim. We are an essential link between the past and future. So we can offer up our own work to God and pray with the psalmist: ‘Prosper thou the work of our hands’.

Whose faithful labour has helped to build your life and make it possible? What quiet, unnoticed work might God be asking of you for the sake of others?

God of all generations,
we thank you for those whose faithful labour
has built and sustained the life we share,
bringing beauty, joy and hope into our hearts.
Give us grace to recognise with gratitude the good we have received,
and to do faithfully the work that is ours,
for your sake and for those yet to come.

Amen.

Holiness

For he was a good man, and full of the Holy Ghost and of faith.
(Acts 11:24)

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... 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 is easy to imagine saints as made of different stuff to the rest of us, especially a king from before 1066, whose life was soon surrounded by stories of miracles and healings.

Like us, the Edward of history was a complex human being. He knew exile and illness, struggled with difficult relationships, and lived through years of political uncertainty. Yet his reputation for piety endeared him to his people. Holiness does not require a life untouched by difficulty or ambiguity, but one devoted to God and deeply committed to living out the Gospel, whatever sacrifices that may entail.

Williams’s definition of holiness is not about how impressive a person is, but where their life points to. A holy life has integrity. It is costly. It enlarges our vision and shapes our theological imagination. It points beyond itself towards God.

The Church remembers Edward not because he was perfect, but because those who knew him saw God at work in what he did, as did future generations. He was honoured as a saint long before he was formally canonised in 1161. Two years later, his body was moved to a new shrine within the Abbey, and then he was moved again to the Shrine after Henry rebuilt the Abbey. Pilgrims have continued to come to remember and honour him.

Saints do not seek to draw attention to themselves. Like the stained glass of this Abbey, their lives become a medium through which the light of God is seen. The beauty lies not only in the glass, but in the light that shines through it.

The question is whether we can glimpse God in a beautiful way through an otherwise ordinary human life. We may know people like that who make the goodness, mercy and generosity of God visible and compelling.

Who has helped me to see God more clearly? How might I become more transparent to God?

Holy God,
we thank you for all those
through whom your love has shone.
Take the ordinary and imperfect lives we bring you,
and let your glory shine through them.
Turn our attention away from ourselves,
that in our words and in our lives
others may glimpse your goodness
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

Mercy

Freely ye have received, freely give.
(Matthew 10:8)

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.

Above the Great North Door of the Abbey are windows that show the acts of mercy Jesus describes in Matthew 25: feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, clothing the naked, welcoming the stranger, visiting the sick and ministering to prisoners. In addition, the carol above by John Audley adds burying the dead and teaching others.

These acts of mercy begin with the act of seeing: truly seeing the person in front of us and recognising their humanity and their need. But Jesus invites us to go even further by seeing them not just as vulnerable or worthy of care, but seeing them as Christ himself. Whatever you do, he says, ‘you do it to me’. We meet Christ in our neighbour.

Generosity and compassion are traits for which later generations have remembered Saint Edward. Osbert of Clare, writing in the twelfth century, describes a king who fed the poor and clothed the naked, giving in secret rather than seeking recognition. Tradition even describes him carrying a beggar who was unable to walk.

According to another tradition, a beggar asked him for alms, but as he had no money at hand, he took the jewelled ring he wore and gave it to him instead. A few years later two pilgrims in the Holy Land were stranded and then helped by an old man. He told them he was St John the Evangelist and asked them to return the ring to Edward telling him that in six months he would join him in heaven.

Behind these stories is the example of Christ himself, who touched those whom others would not touch, who noticed those who were otherwise overlooked, and who heard those who cried out to him.

Who is Christ inviting me to notice and show mercy to? What mercy do I need?

Merciful God,
open our eyes to those we fail to see.
Give us time for the person in front of us,
a welcome for the stranger,
and generosity with what we have.
Teach us to meet Christ in everyone who comes to us in need today,
and to receive each one with mercy and love;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

Healing

After that he put his hands again upon his eyes, and made him look up: and he was restored, and saw every man clearly. (Mark 8:25)

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

Stories of healing became part of the memory of Edward. Tradition tells of him touching a woman suffering from disease and healing her, or of restoring sight to people who were blind. Even Shakespeare drew on these stories in Macbeth.

From this spot, you can see the Shrine and you are able to go into the Shrine today for Shrine prayers. When you enter the Shrine later for prayer, take a look at the mid-15th-century stone screen along the top of the Altar Screen, where you will see fourteen episodes – real and legendary – from Edward’s life.

For centuries, pilgrims have come here bringing their sorrow and illnesses and offering prayers for loved ones. Every day we carry the prayers left at the icons in the Nave and offer them to God here, so this is a place long been shaped by intercession.

The hope of healing does not rest on Edward, but on Christ, to whom the Shrine and the prayers offered here ultimately point. In Mark’s Gospel quoted above, a blind man is brought to Jesus. At first, he sees people who look like trees, walking. Jesus lays his hands on him a second time, and then ‘he saw everything clearly’. Healing comes in stages for him, as it may for us.

What you bring today may be an illness, or grief, fear, or a broken relationship. Some wounds are not fully healed in this life. But we can bring what hurts to God and ask Christ to meet us there.

What need for healing, in myself or a loved one, do I wish to bring before God today?

Lord Jesus Christ,
Meet us where we hurt,
in body, mind or spirit,
in the wounds that show
and those that are hidden
and bring wholeness.
Give us patience when healing is slow,
and trust to leave everything in your hands
that remains unresolved
until the day when you make all things new;
for your mercy’s sake.

Amen.

Legacy

Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord… that they may rest from their labours; and their works do follow them. (Revelation 14:13)

A few days after the consecration of his Abbey, Edward the Confessor died on 5 January 1066. Too ill to attend the consecration, he had lived to see his church completed. The burial procession from Westminster Hall to the Abbey is depicted on the Bayeux Tapestry. Prayers were said throughout the day and the following night, and on 6 January, the Feast of the Epiphany, Edward was buried before the High Altar.

We know, looking back, something of what followed his death and the great political changes that followed, but Edward did not.

He also could not have imagined how he would be remembered: the stories that would be told about him, the pilgrims who would come to his Shrine, or the place his memory would still occupy in England and in the church nearly a thousand years later.

That is important about legacy: we do not really know how we will be remembered or what we will leave behind. While this may be unsettling, it also offers us an opportunity to let go and trust that we are part of something greater. We may not know what will become of what we build, or whether anyone will remember our part in it. But we can entrust our own legacy and what comes afterwards to God. God knows us by name. We trust that nothing we have done in love will be lost in Him who God is eternal, abiding, and unchanging.

How do you hope to be remembered? What will you pass on to others and what will you entrust to God?

God of every generation,
we thank you for those who have gone before us,
for the love we have received
and for all that has been entrusted to us.
Help us to receive our lives with gratitude,
to give generously, and to leave the future in your hands.
When the time comes to let go,
teach us to trust that we too are known by name and held in your love;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

Homecoming

For here have we no continuing city, but we seek one to come.
(Hebrews 13:14)

An Excerpt from Little Gidding, The Four Quartets

T.S. Eliot

We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time.

We began this pilgrimage with Edward before 1066. The Bayeux Tapestry shows his last journey: his body carried in procession to the Abbey he had built. Then the story moves on. One king gives way to another, one generation to the next.

Some things remain. Before you leave today, you may wish to pause at the ancient wooden door near the Chapter House in the East Cloister. Its oak was made into a door in Edward’s reign, perhaps for his Abbey. It is the only Anglo-Saxon door here, and it survived Henry III’s rebuilding when almost everything around it changed. How many people have gone through it since?

In Rossetti’s poem with which we began, the pilgrim wondered whether he would be left standing at the door. But a door is not a place to linger, just a passageway to go through.

As people of faith, we are encouraged not to become fixated on the past or try to recreate the past. There may be much to hold on to in our traditions and practices that are life-giving and which we may treasure. But we are also encouraged to look to where God is active now and in the future.

In Genesis, Abraham is called to leave his home and go forth trusting in God’s promises for his life and his future, as unlikely as they seemed to come to fulfilment. In the prophet Isaiah, God declares to a traumatised people that he has a future in mind for them after they return from exile: ‘Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert’.

Again and again, Scripture asks us both to remember and to press on. The difference is whether memory holds us in place or sends us out. The writer to the Hebrews does not tell us to go back to a lost age. He tells us that ‘here we have no lasting city’ so we must look to the city yet to come.

Amid ‘the changes and chances of this mortal life,’ as the Book of Common Prayer puts it, Christian faith reminds us that God abides. Through all our journeys he draws us onwards.

Later today you will leave this Abbey and return to the places, people and responsibilities of your life, back where you started.

As you cross the threshold back into the world and your everyday life, what will you see differently? What will you carry forward?

God of Abraham, the original pilgrim,
you called him to leave his home
and kept him in all his wanderings.
Grant to all who travel
a prosperous journey, a quiet time,
and a safe arrival at their journey’s end.
Be to them a shadow in the heat,
a refuge in the tempest,
a protection in adversity,
and when life’s pilgrimage is over,
bring them safely to the heavenly country;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

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.

It’s a privilege to live and work here – the Abbey really is the heart of the country and its history.

Martin - The Dean’s Verger

Edwardtide Digital Pilgrimage

Longing

Up-Hill

Promises

Excerpt from The History of Saint Edward the King

Labour

An Excerpt from Vie de seint Aedward le Rei

Holiness

An Excerpt from Being Disciples

Mercy

Carol Three: The Seven Works of Mercy

Healing

An Excerpt from Macbeth

Legacy

Homecoming

An Excerpt from Little Gidding, The Four Quartets

Conclusion

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