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George Herbert

George Herbert


George Herbert was a Welsh poet, orator and priest. Being born into an artistic and wealthy family, he received a good education which led to his holding prominent positions at Cambridge University and Parliament.

As a student at Trinity College, Cambridge, England, George Herbert excelled in languages and music. He went to college with the intention of becoming a priest, but his scholarship attracted the attention of King James I. Herbert served in parliament for two years. After the death of King James and at the urging of a friend, Herbert's interest in ordained ministry was renewed.

In 1630, in his late thirties he gave up his secular ambitions and took holy orders in the Church of England, spending the rest of his life as a rector of the little parish of St. Andrew Bemerton, near Salisbury.

He was noted for unfailing care for his parishioners, bringing the sacraments to them when they were ill, and providing food and clothing for those in need.

Throughout his life he wrote religious poems characterized by a precision of language. He is best remembered as a writer of poems and the hymn "Come, My Way, My Truth, My Life."
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George Herbert

A True Hymn

My Joy, my Life, my Crown! My heart was meaning all the day, Somewhat it fain would say, And still it runneth muttering up and down With only this, My Joy, my Life, my Crown! Yet slight not those few words; If truly said, they may take part Among the best in art: The fineness which a hymn or psalm a... Read More
George Herbert

An Offering

Come, bring thy gift. If blessings were as slow As men's returns, what would become of fools? What hast thou there? a heart? but is it pure? Search well and see; for hearts have many holes. Yet one pure heart is nothing to bestow: In Christ two natures met to be thy cure. O that within us hearts had... Read More
George Herbert

Colossians 3:3

Our life is hid with Christ in God My words and thoughts do both express this notion, That Life hath with the sun a double motion The first Is straight, and our diurnal friend, The other Hid, and doth obliquely bend. One life is wrapt In flesh, and tends to earth. The other winds towards Him, whose ... Read More
George Herbert

Death

Death, thou wast once an uncouth hideous thing, Nothing but bones, The sad effect of sadder grones: Thy mouth was open, but thou couldst not sing. For we consider'd thee as at some six Or ten yeares hence, After the losse of life and sense, Flesh being turn'd to dust, and bones to sticks. We lookt o... Read More
George Herbert

Employment (I)

If as a flower doth spread and die, Thou wouldst extend me to some good, Before I were by frost's extremity Nipt in the bud; The sweetness and the praise were thine; But the extension and the room, Which in thy garland I should fill, were mine At thy great doom. For as thou dost impart thy grace, Th... Read More
George Herbert

Jordan (I)

Who says that fictions only and false hair Become a verse? Is there in truth no beauty? Is all good structure in a winding stair? May no lines pass, except they do their duty Not to a true, but painted chair? Is it no verse, except enchanted groves And sudden arbours shadow coarse-spun lines Must pu... Read More
George Herbert

Longing

With sick and famisht eyes, With doubling knees and weary bones, To thee my cries, To thee my groans, To thee my sighs, my tears ascend: No end? My throat, my soul is hoarse; My heart is wither'd like a ground Which thou dost curse. My thoughts turn round, And make me giddy; Lord, I fall, Yet call. ... Read More
George Herbert

Love (I)

Immortal Love, author of this great frame, Sprung from that beauty which can never fade; How hath man parcel'd out thy glorious name, And thrown it on that dust which thou hast made, While mortal love doth all the title gain! Which siding with invention, they together Bear all the sway, possessing h... Read More
George Herbert

Love (II)

Immortal Heat, O let thy greater flame Attract the lesser to it: let those fires, Which shall consume the world, first make it tame; And kindle in our hearts such true desires, As may consume our lusts, and make thee way. Then shall our hearts pant thee; then shall our brain All her invention on thi... Read More
George Herbert

The Rose

Press me not to take more pleasure In this world of sugred lies, And to use a larger measure. Than my strict, yet welcome size. First, there is no pleasure here: Colour'd griefs indeed there are, Blushing woes, that look as clear As if they could beauty spare. Or if such deceits there be, Such delig... Read More
George Herbert

The Temper (1)

How should I praise thee, Lord! how should my rhymes Gladly engrave thy love in steel, If what my soul doth feel sometimes, My soul might ever feel! Although there were some forty heav'ns, or more, Sometimes I peer above them all; Sometimes I hardly reach a score, Sometimes to hell I fall. O rack me... Read More
George Herbert

The Temper (2)

It cannot be. Where is that mighty joy, Which just now took up all my heart? Lord, if thou must needs use thy dart, Save that, and me; or sin for both destroy. The grosser world stands to thy word and art; But thy diviner world of grace Thou suddenly dost raise and race, And ev'ry day a new Creator ... Read More
George Herbert

The Windows

Lord, how can man preach thy eternall word? He is a brittle crazie glasse: Yet in thy temple thou dost him afford This glorious and transcendent place, To be a window, through thy grace. But when thou dost anneal in glasse thy storie, Making thy life to shine within The holy Preachers; then the ligh... Read More

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