(poems, 1633)
During his brief life, George Herbert never published a single poem. Shortly before he died, sensing that his time was near, this pastor of a small country church gave a fellow pastor who was visiting him a small volume to put into the hands of his close friend, Nicholas Ferrar.
Sir, I pray deliver this little book to my dear brother Ferrar, and tell him he shall find in it a picture of the many spiritual conflicts that have passed between God and my soul, before I could subject mine to the will of Jesus my master, in whose service I have now found perfect freedom . . . if he think it may turn to the advantage of any dejected poor soul, let it be made public; if not, let him burn it; for I and it are the least of God’s mercies.1
The “little book” was a collection of 167 poems chronicling the ups and downs, struggles and triumphs, of Herbert’s walk with God. Though Ferrar was not himself an expert in poetry, he understood the beauty and value in these poems and saw that they were published in 1633 under the title The Temple. These poems have been a treasure for Christians ever since, and are some of the most honest and searching poems ever composed on the life of faith. They give evidence of a deep and profound belief as seen through the eyes of an intelligent man who struggled at times with doubts about his own worthiness and who embraced without reservation the grace of Jesus Christ. Taken as a whole, the collection of poems is a confession in two senses of that word: a confession of sin and a confession of faith. It is an honest accounting of his spiritual weakness and a determined embrace of the theological truths he knew to be true, even when he was not experiencing them.
But these poems are more than just the personal scribblings of a fellow traveler on the journey of faith. They are also extremely artful. Herbert was one of the great experimenters with verse form, so nearly every poem in his collection has its own unique rhyme scheme. He used the length of his lines to control the pace with which each poem unfolds, and a few of them quite literally take on the shape of their subject: in “Easter Wings” the lines are arranged like wings, and in “The Altar” they form the shape of an altar.
Perhaps the best known of these poems is “Love (III),” in which he records an interrogation with God, who invites him to sit down to supper with him, but Herbert responds to that invitation by drawing back. He is the awkward guest who feels out of place at the table with God, but his Lord is not willing to take no for an answer. The debate continues, with Herbert sure of his own unworthiness and God trying to help him understand that he has borne the sin and shame—and inviting him into intimacy.
Love bade me welcome. Yet my soul drew back
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,
If I lacked any thing.
A guest, I answered, worthy to be here:
Love said, You shall be he.
I the unkind, the ungrateful? Ah my dear,
I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
Who made the eyes but I?
Truth Lord, but I have marred them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame?
My dear, then I will serve.
You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:
So I did sit and eat.2
Another memorable poem in The Temple is “Prayer (I),” essentially a catalog of descriptive phrases that attempt to capture different elements of the mystery of communicating with God. Prayer is, among many other things: “the soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgrimage,” “reversed thunder,” “heaven in the ordinary,” and “church bells beyond the stars heard.” Herbert’s phrases wed together the wonder, the work, and the mystery of praying with images from Scripture, tradition, and his own fertile imagination.
These poems are just two examples from a collection that can be read and reread over the course of a lifetime. Whatever place one is at in one’s own walk with God, there is comfort and wisdom and challenge to be found in these verses.
George Herbert was born April 3, 1593, in Wales, the seventh of ten children. He was an outstanding student at his preparatory school, then went on to Cambridge, where he immersed himself in the study of classics. He graduated second in his class, earned a Master of Arts degree, and became a fellow at the university. Three years later he was elected to the prestigious position of public orator for Cambridge, where he gave official speeches and made friendships for himself among the elite. Then from 1623–24 he served as a member of Parliament. One would imagine that he would have felt he had “arrived,” but none of his accomplishments fulfilled the deeper spiritual call that was building within him.
A battle raged within his soul over the direction of his future, which only found its resolution when he was ordained first as a deacon in the Church of England in 1626, and then as a priest in 1630. He purposely did not seek a prestigious parish but rather accepted a call to a small country church in Bemerton. Throughout the time of his ministry there the congregation never numbered more than one hundred people, but those who were the objects of his sermons and pastoral care thought him a humble and saintly man and were impressed by his character, his charity, and his gentle holiness. It is unlikely that many of them even knew he was a poet.
Herbert intended the verses he composed to be for God and for himself, as a way of meditating on the progress of his faith. We are fortunate enough to get to listen in. He had a spiritual purpose in mind for sharing these personal musings, and at the end of his life, when preparing these poems for their final form, he wrote these lines in the introductory poem: “Hearken unto a Verser, who may chance / Rhyme thee to good, and make a bait of pleasure / A verse may find him, who a sermon flies / And turn delight into a sacrifice.” He understood that poetry could have a persuasive power quite different from that of a message delivered in a pulpit.
Herbert struggled with his health throughout his adult life, and after three years in the ministry he died of tuberculosis at age thirty-nine. Not a single one of the sermons he preached has survived, but what has survived are his remarkable poems, generally considered among the greatest religious poems in the English language. He described his own poetic calling as being “a Secretary of Thy Praise.”
Herbert referred to his poems as the record of his conflict with God, and they have an intimacy about them deriving from the fact that most of them are directly addressed to God and as such he was not shy about expressing the nature of his own struggles. In his poems we witness firsthand the battle of his will against God’s, and his struggle with his sense of unworthiness toward being God’s servant. His battle was a losing battle, as he was always bested by God and therefore had to make peace with him through surrender. Time and again, Herbert found his ultimate victory in being defeated, for the One who defeated him is the God of grace and love.
Although the poems recording his individual journey of faith are intensely personal, they are also deeply rooted in tradition and in a commitment to Christ and his church. Herbert saw the spiritual journey not as a solo excursion but as one undertaken together in community, as members together of the body of Christ, his church. The church, as Herbert saw it, was the proper context for living out the Christian life. Therefore, many of the poems reflect upon the church year, make use of snippets of the Anglican liturgy, or use church architecture as a metaphor.
A great deal of the religious poetry written through the centuries suffers from being overly sentimental and often feels insincere, as though it is expressing what the poet wished to be feeling, or thought he or she should be feeling, rather than what he or she was actually feeling. The strength of Herbert as a religious poet is that he was not afraid to tell the truth about his struggles and doubts, and about the difficulties of the spiritual path. But he always ended with affirmation and hope. It was hope hard won, but more transformative because of the struggle.