Christian Art | George Herbert | The Temple | The Church | The Temper (1)
George Herbert | The Temple | The Church | The Temper (1)
How should I praise thee, Lord! how should my rymes
Gladly engrave thy love in steel,
If what my soul doth feel sometimes,
My soul might ever feel!
Although there were some fourtie heav’ns, or more,
Sometimes I peere above them all;
Sometimes I hardly reach a score,
Sometimes to hell I fall.
O rack me not to such a vast extent;
Those distances belong to thee:
The world’s too little for thy tent,
A grave too big for me.
Wilt thou meet arms with man, that thou dost stretch
A crumme of dust from heav’n to hell?
Will great God measure with a wretch?
Shall he thy stature spell?
O let me, when thy roof my soul hath hid,
O let me roost and nestle there:
Then of a sinner thou art rid,
And I of hope and fear.
Yet take thy way; for sure thy way is best:
Stretch or contract me thy poore debter:
This is but tuning of my breast,
To make the musick better.
Whether I flie with angels, fall with dust,
Thy hands made both, and I am there:
Thy power and love, my love and trust
Make one place ev’ry where.
George Herbert | The Temple | The Church | The Temper (1)
In this poem, Herbert reflects on the immense and transcendent nature of God compared to limitations of human experience. The poem explores Herbert’s yearning fully to experience divine love and presence, while grappling with inevitable fluctuations of human faith and emotion. Herbert expresses a wish permanently to feel the closeness and joy sometimes sensed in God’s presence. Yet, this experience is shown to be inconsistent, varying between moments of near-heavenly insight and others of despair, represented as ‘falling to hell’.
The poet addresses God’s vastness directly, remarking that the scale of God’s being is too great for human comprehension. Through this contrast between the human and the divine, Herbert emphasizes the inadequacy of human language and capacity to fully encompass or even understand the divine, suggesting that the scope of God is ‘too little for the world’ and yet a grave ‘too big for me’. The idea that God might even engage with humanity on such a vast scale—that divine understanding stretches from ‘heaven to hell’—brings a sense of awe mingled with questioning: how can the infinite meet with the finite?
As the poem progresses, Herbert submits to God’s will, asking only to find refuge ‘when thy roof my soul hath hid’, a request for spiritual sanctuary where they might be freed from the burdens of ‘hope and fear’. The poet desires to be free from the human oscillation between these two states, instead finding lasting peace in God’s presence. Yet, this request for sanctuary does not stem from a desire to avoid spiritual growth; rather, Herbert recognizes that the process of being ‘stretched or contracted’ by divine influence refines and improves them, ‘tuning’ their ‘breast to make the music better’.
Herbert expresses a sense of unity with God, regardless of circumstance. Whether ‘flying with angels’ or ‘falling with dust’, there is a trust in God’s power and love, and an acceptance that wherever they are, God is present. The poem concludes with a sense of spiritual wholeness, where divine love and human faith come together to create a ‘place everywhere’ that transcends physical space and earthly limitations. This notion reflects a contemplative, introspective spirituality that emphasizes God’s constancy even amid human instability, allowing the poet to trust in God’s omnipresence and care, no matter the external conditions or internal states of being.
In Luke’s account of the eschatological discourse, the apocalypse – from the Greek for revelation – is clearly envisaged as beginning in the destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple in AD 70. The natural world is portrayed as being in a state of turmoil, and this reinforces for the listener the impact of what will be – has been by the time of Luke’s writing – a political event. The Jewish rebellion and the sacking of Jerusalem will be brutal and bloody [ … ]
Saint Gregory of Nyssa draws together two biblical images of Christ—peace and light—and makes them measures of Christian authenticity. He begins with peace, taking his cue from Ephesians 2:14: ‘He is our peace, for he has made both one.’ Gregory treats peace not as an abstract quality but as the practical end of reconciliation. Christ has destroyed the ‘enmity’ between Jew and Gentile, and, more fundamentally, between humanity and God. That enmity, he says, must remain dead; resentment and grudges are signs of calling it back to life [ … ]
One of the leading Pharisees has invited Jesus to his house to share a meal. There are several occasions in the Gospels when Jesus is invited by Pharisees to share a meal. Perhaps they are curious, as now we are told, ‘they watched him,’ perhaps through malice. We are not told how a man with dropsy could enter the house of a leader of the Pharisees. Here he is, though, waiting to be cured. Once more, the question of healing on the Sabbath is raised, and with it the issue of the Pharisees’ hypocrisy and the absolutely critical fact of the divinity of Jesus, granting him authority to reinterpret the Sabbath and so drawing him ever closer to the cross [ .. ]
