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‘Teach me, my God and King, in all things thee to see’ By Marian Van Til I revisited Herbert earlier this year because in the church calendar his annual “feast” day (from whence our word “festival”) is February 27, a day each year when Anglicans, Lutherans and some other Christians give thanks for Herbert’s life and witness. It is not a bad practice to remember as gifts to us the lives and faith and Kingdom-of-God contributions of believers in history, and it’s a practice that helps bind us saints on earth with the saints in heaven. Interweaving word and Word God’s particular gift to Herbert was the ability to use his keen mind and wit to finely, peculiarly interweave word and Word in God’s service. It wasn’t until I began my working life that Herbert’s exceptional way with words that reflect the Word first truly sank into my soul. That happened when in the course of my church-musicianly duties I discovered that some of Herbert’s poems are also hymns (none of which were in the hymnals I grew up with). Herbert himself was a good musician as well as poet and pastor. George Herbert the parson wanted his parishioners to encounter God, and to know why they did what they did in church. Herbert the poet very personally communicated his own encounters with God. Herbert the musician played for enjoyment, aiding his other service of God. The Son (the Word made flesh) and all that God reveals of himself in his written Word the Bible come to us swaddled in the word: in our language; in our language written down and our language heard. It would be of great value, I think, if we who live in a world that has devalued the Word and depreciated the word were to practice reading and understanding George Herbert and the other “metaphysical” poets of the seventeenth century, and then visit them regularly after that. (John Donne is another of those poets. And there was a personal connection between the two: Herbert’s mother was a patron and friend of Donne’s.) From social grace to the Savior’s grace George Herbert was born into the wealth and privilege that Britain’s old aristocratic families could expect, but that couldn’t prevent his father’s dying when he was only four. Magdalen Herbert successfully raised her 10 children as a widow, choosing clever George (her fifth son) as one of her children who would be specially tutored. George was later sent to Trinity College, Cambridge, and at age 26 was appointed Orator there. It was a position that allowed him to officially welcome dignitaries, from the King on down. This wasn’t simply, “Greetings! Lovely you could come, Your Lordship. Shall we take a tour?” It was a highly public post that ideally suited Herbert’s social manners, his “networking abilities” and his knack for witty speeches appropriate to all personages and occasions. His excellent reputation grew quickly. So did his love for fine clothes, his ability to take advantage of his social position, and his more and more frequent absences so that he could spend time at the court of King James. He was not an unbeliever by any means. His mother had seen to it that her children had been carefully nurtured in the faith. But George hadn’t yet been bitten hard by the Hound of Heaven. As he grew older, however, he began to see that his university and court life was vacuous, and he was pained by his earlier misplaced priorities. Then King James died, as did two close friends at court. And Herbert was often ill. It is no accident that he wrote four different poems entitled “Affliction.” By age 36 he felt God was calling him to the ministry (in the Church of England). A year later he was already picking his way around the rocks on that new path. He was, by then, married -- fortunately, to a soul mate who shared his attitudes and priorities. In our day it needs to be understood that for an aristocrat of Herbert’s abilities this move to the church was seen as a step (or two or three) downward. It was also novel that Herbert intended to rebuild his literally crumbling parish church and parsonage with his own money (and with the help of patrons), which he did. Even his mother thought this a bad idea, though she changed her mind and even became one of his patrons. Immediately after his induction (ordination) Herbert told a friend, “I will now use all my endeavours to bring my relations and dependents to a love and reliance on him, who never fails those that trust him. But above all, I will be sure to live well, because the virtuous life of a clergyman is the most powerful eloquence to persuade all that see it to reverence and love....” ‘I never find “Blessed be the rich”’ Many people of status and wealth believed that since God had given them their money and placed them where they were, they should enjoy it without either guilt or thought. But even as a young man at at Trinity, when Herbert was living a comfortable and relatively frivolous life, he refuted his own argument. At age 29, on May 25, 1622, he wrote to his mother: ...For temporal afflictions, I beseech you consider, all that can happen to you are either afflictions of estate, or body, or mind. For those of estate, of what poor regard ought they to be? since, if we had riches, we are commanded to give them away: so that the best use of them is having, not to have them. But perhaps, being above the common people, our credit and estimation calls on us to live in a more splendid fashion: but, O God! how easily is that answered, when we consider that the blessings in the holy scripture are never given to the rich, but to the poor. I never find ‘Blessed be the rich,’ or ‘Blessed be the noble’; but ‘Blessed be the meek,’ and ‘Blessed be the poor,’ and ‘Blessed be the mourners, for they shall be comforted.’ And yet, O God! most carry themselves so as if they not only not desired, but even feared to be blessed.... By the time he became a pastor, Herbert realized that if anyone’s life must reflect the love and generosity of God, his as a shepherd to God’s people surely did. It isn’t surprising, then, that he became a cherished and effective “parson” even though his pastorate was very brief. Inexplicably to us, God gave him just three years to live out his new call, and he suffered a lengthy final illness. What stands out in Herbert’s poetry is his clinging to God through affliction, and of the desire to give his all to the God who made and redeemed him. The best-known example of the hymn-poems may be “King of Glory, King of Peace.” For those who know the Psalms, the first stanza of “King of Glory” will seem to echo David’s agonized rhetorical question to God when feeling abandoned and at the brink of the grave: “Do the dead praise you?” – and God relents and spares David’s life. Here, Herbert has already been rescued from his David-like affliction and has been forgiven of his sins. He gratefully offers to God the very best he has in this life. When his already forgiven sins resurface and try to reassert themselves, and then do it again, he recognizes, relieved, that they won’t win: God has cleared him, God who is so great that even an eternity of our ecstatic song is not enough to extol his praises. King of glory, King of peace, I will love thee; and that love may never cease, I will move thee. Thou hast granted my request, thou hast heard me; thou didst note my working breast, thou hast spared me.
Wherefore with my utmost art I will sing thee, and the cream of all my heart I will bring thee. Though my sins against me cried, thou didst clear me; and alone, when they replied, thou didst hear me.
Seven whole days, not one in seven, I will praise thee; in my heart, though not in heaven, I can raise thee. Small it is, in this poor sort to enroll thee: e'en eternity's too short to extol thee. The next poem-hymn is addressed to Christ. It is a very personal invitation for Christ to enter the poet’s/singer’s/reader’s life. Its simultaneous simplicity and complexity allow more and more meaning to be revealed with each reading. Come, my Way, my Truth, my Life: Such a way as gives us breath; Such a truth as ends all strife, Such a life as killeth death.
Come, my Light, my Feast, my Strength: Such a light as shows a feast, Such a feast as mends in length, Such a strength as makes his guest.
Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart: Such a joy as none can move, Such a love as none can part, Such a heart as joys in love. From that intimate prayer, Herbert moves to enlisting the whole world to sing God’s praises. Let all the world in every corner sing, my God and King! The heavens are not too high, his praise may thither fly, the earth is not too low, his praises there may grow. Let all the world in every corner sing, my God and King! Let all the world in every corner sing, my God and King! The church with psalms must shout, no door can keep them out; but, above all, the heart must bear the longest part. Let all the world in every corner sing, my God and King! This final poem brings us full circle. It is another plea to see God and serve God in all things and circumstances, not as the animals do, but as the people he created us to be. Teach me, teach me, my God and king, in all things thee to see, and what I do in anything, to do it as for thee:
Not rudely as a beast, to run into action; but still to make thee prepossest, and give it his perfection.
A servant with this clause makes drudgery divine: who sweeps a room, as for thy laws, makes that and th’ action fine.
This is the famous stone, that turneth all to gold: for that which God doth touch and own cannot for less be told.
This is a slightly revised version of an article by Marian Van Til that first appeared in Christian Courier (Ontario, Canada) in her monthly column “From the 11th Province.” ©Marian Van Til.and WordPower Publishing. |
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I met George Herbert when I was a student. Herbert was born in the spring of 1593 and lived a short 40 years. Yet I’ve met him. You will say the same if you read his poetry – and letters, sermons, or advice to “parsons.” It is all infused with the Spirit of Christ. His poetry brims with the desire to serve God every day, in every area of life. In 1633, the year he died, Herbert wrote these lines: Seven whole days, not one in seven,/ I will praise thee./ In my heart, though not in heaven, I can raise thee./ Small it is in this poor sort to enroll thee;/ E’en eternity’s too short to extol thee .(“King of Glory, King of Peace”). In that same poem (see below) Herbert uses cream as a vivid visual metaphor to express offering God the best we have. We would use the cliché “cream of the crop,” but Herbert puts it better.