The Poetry of George Herbert

Poetry is not really my thing.  The last time I recall reading poetry was for a course in my Master's Degree in 1985.  Before then, maybe in 1960-something, studying for my Bachelor's.  So, no, poetry rarely touches my soul.

Strangely enough, I hate to admit, does the passion of Christ.  Other than the movie by Mel Gibson, The Passion of the Christ, I have not given much thought to the suffering of Christ. I don't know why.  I know the great saints have almost to a man meditated on the suffering of Jesus, but I just couldn't get there.  I don't like to think about it.  As a child, we used to attend the Stations of the Cross on Fridays with our classes, but even then, try as I would, the suffering just didn't penetrate my mind.  I felt sorry for Jesus, of course, but I didn't really want to focus on the intense pain he underwent.  

Recently, however, I was reading something that quoted George Herbert, a 16th-century English poet.  I had briefly studied, if you can call it that, his poetry in high school by reading maybe one of his poems.  I found it unremarkable, as most 16th-century English poets would be to a high school sophomore.  Whatever excerpt I read in this quotation, however, caught my attention, and so I downloaded a sample of his poetry (you can buy the complete works for 99 cents, so why I had to try a sample, I cannot tell you).

I should also tell you that it took what my daughters call "a pajama day" for me to get into reading his poetry.  I was not feeling well; the weather was miserable -- a perfect setting in which to re-discover the delights of reading poetry once again.  As I got into the sample, I found at first aphorisms much like the wisdom literature of the Old Testament -- wise and sometimes witty sayings that hit the nail on the head.  I rather think that it might take more than one or two --- and maybe a pajama day with nothing else to do --- to begin to ease into George Herbert's humor, but I'll give one sample here:

By all means use sometimes to be alone.
Salute thyself: see what thy soul doth wear.

Dare to look in thy chest; for 'tis thine own:

And tumble up and down what thou find'st there.

Who cannot rest till he good fellows find,

He breaks up house, turns out of doors his mind.

By the time I reached the end of my sample, I was hooked on George Herbert and sprang for the whole 99 cents to acquire the complete works.  Like all poetry, it demands to be read slowly and thoughtfully, but doing so reaps rich rewards.  And, having now in my possession the complete works, I found more than just light aphorisms.  Unwittingly, I found myself immersed in a very long poem called "The Sacrifice." Written in 3-line stanzas, in the voice of Jesus, the poem slowly drew me into what I had never wanted to contemplate -- the suffering of Christ.  And I was moved by the simplicity of the verses to continue reading.  Because the poem could not be more appropriate for the Lenten season, I want to present it in its entirety.  However, it is very long, so I think I may have to spread it over a few days.  Also, 16th-century English spelling is idiomatic; I find the original version charming, so I will not standardize Herbert's spelling, even though it may not appeal to the modern reader.  

The poem begins with the next entry.