Christian Art | George Herbert | The Temple | The Church | Vanitie (1)
George Herbert | The Temple | The Church | Vanitie (1)
The fleet Astronomer can bore,
And thred the spheres with his quick-piercing minde:
He views their stations, walks from doore to doore,
Surveys, as if he had design’d
To make a purchase there: he sees their dances,
And knoweth long before,
Both their full-ey’d aspects, and secret glances.
The nimble Diver with his side
Cuts through the working waves, that he may fetch
His dearely-earned pearl, which God did hide
On purpose from the ventrous wretch;
That he might save his life, and also hers,
Who with excessive pride
Her own destruction and his danger wears.
The subtil Chymick can devest
And strip the creature naked, till he finde
The callow principles within their nest:
There he imparts to them his minde,
Admitted to their bed-chamber, before
They appeare trim and drest
To ordinarie suitours at the doore.
What hath not man sought out and found,
But his deare God? who yet his glorious law
Embosomes in us, mellowing the ground
With showres and frosts, with love and aw,
So that we need not say, Where’s this command?
Poore man, thou searchest round
To finde out death, but missest life at hand.
George Herbert | The Temple | The Church | Vanitie (1)
George Herbert’s poem explores humanity’s relentless pursuit of knowledge and mastery over the natural world, juxtaposing these achievements with the failure to recognize and embrace God’s immediate presence. The poem is structured around vivid images of human ingenuity, drawing on the astronomer, diver, and chemist (or ‘chymick’) as archetypes of humanity’s intellectual and physical endeavors. Yet, beneath these triumphs lies a critique: the neglect of the divine, who resides ‘at hand’ rather than in the distant realms humanity seeks to conquer.
Herbert begins by depicting the astronomer, whose ‘quick-piercing minde’ enables him to traverse the heavens. The astronomer ‘thred[s] the spheres,’ mapping their ‘stations’ and ‘dances’. This mastery of celestial movements suggests both awe and futility. While the astronomer appears to possess dominion over the stars, his efforts are framed as acquisitive, likened to a surveyor seeking to ‘make a purchase there’. The implication is clear: this pursuit of knowledge, though impressive, remains fundamentally material and incomplete, lacking the transformative insight found in divine truth.
The second stanza turns to the diver, whose daring pursuit of pearls reflects human determination and ingenuity. The diver’s ability to ‘cut through the working waves’ speaks to the strength and skill required to unearth treasures ‘God did hide’. Yet Herbert introduces a moral caution: the pearls are hidden deliberately, both to preserve the diver’s life and to temper the destructive pride of the one who wears them. The diver’s quest, like the astronomer’s, is fraught with spiritual peril. It highlights humanity’s tendency to risk all for fleeting rewards, neglecting the eternal.
The third stanza shifts focus to the ‘chymick’, whose precision and analytical prowess enable him to ‘devest and strip’ creation to its essence. Herbert portrays this figure as penetrating the inner sanctum of nature, uncovering the ‘principles’ hidden within. Yet, even as the chemist unravels the mysteries of the material world, Herbert implies a spiritual blindness. The ‘callow principles’ laid bare are insufficient without divine illumination, and the chemist’s successes, while remarkable, cannot substitute for the transformative power of God’s presence.
In the final stanza, Herbert reflects on the irony of human endeavour. ‘What hath not man sought out and found,’ he asks, ‘but his deare God?’ This rhetorical question underscores humanity’s misplaced priorities. Despite possessing the ‘glorious law’ within, ‘embosom’d’ by God, man searches outwardly, missing the life-giving presence of the divine. Herbert’s imagery of the earth ‘mellowing…with love and aw’ reminds the reader that God’s commandments are not distant or inaccessible but are embedded in the fabric of creation.
The poem concludes with a stark juxtaposition: humanity’s relentless search for knowledge leads not to life but to death. The repeated image of ‘searching round’ reinforces the futility of this pursuit. Herbert’s critique is not of knowledge itself but of the neglect of God, who offers a life ‘at hand’ that is continually overlooked. The final admonition, though unspoken, is clear: to seek God within, embracing immediacy of God’s presence rather than chasing after the transient and the distant.
By interweaving imagery of human achievement with divine proximity, Herbert challenges the reader to reconsider what it means truly to ‘find’. The poem’s tensions – seeking and presence, knowledge and wisdom – express a central theme of Herbert’s work: the eternal is not discovered in farthest reaches but within the heart attuned to God.
The image of children in these Bible verses is curious. We could read the lines as suggesting childishness, with one group of children expecting to amuse another and reacting peevishly when those others do not move according to the music they play. We could more broadly read these verses as suggesting a disconnect between various children, a failure of communication, recognition, response, which is emblematic of Christ and his followers and those who reject him …
Duly, we are ashed. Communion follows. Adedokun, serving, puts it all together, takes it all apart. Our thoughts rest, solemn, as we aren’t asked to sing our way out of it. It is one of the good times. Quietly, just sitting like that, it’s pretty good. Dry. All careful-minded. It seems they must see we are taking it the way it is meant to be – solemnly [ … ]
Christian Art | George Herbert | The Temple | The Church | The Sinner George Herbert | The Temple | The Church | The Sinner Lord, how I am all ague, when I seek What I have treasur’d in my memorie! Since, if my soul make even with the week, Each seventh note by right is due to thee. I finde there quarries of pil’d vanities, But shreds of holinesse, that dare not venture To shew their face, since crosse to thy decrees. There the circumference earth is, heav’n the centre. In so much dregs the quintessence is small: The spirit and good extract of my heart Comes to about the many hundredth part. Yet Lord restore thine image, heare my call: And though my hard heart scarce to thee can grone, Remember that thou once didst write in stone. George Herbert | The Temple | The Church | The Sinner The poet reflects on his spiritual state, describing a struggle with weakness, sin, and the desire for divine alignment. The poem opens with the poet addressing God, expressing discomfort, likened to an ‘ague’ (fever or chill), when he searches his memory for spiritual treasures. This ‘ague’ suggests both a physical and spiritual unease, revealing the tension the poet feels in self-examination. The second line conveys a sense of regret as the poet searches for ‘treasur’d’ holiness in his memory. He recognizes that, although he might strive to keep his soul ‘even with the week’, dedicating every seventh day to God, he falls short. This phrase reflects the expectation to honour the Sabbath, but the poet’s efforts are met with disappointment in their perceived spiritual emptiness. The poet goes on to examine his inner self, describing ‘quarries of pil’d vanities’ that dominate his mind. Here, ‘quarries’ implies an overwhelming quantity of earthly or superficial concerns, while ‘vanities’ suggests that these concerns are meaningless in the context of divine expectation. In contrast, he finds only ‘shreds of holinesse’, fragmented attempts at righteousness, which he hesitates to bring forward as these elements are ‘crosse to thy decrees’, or in opposition to God’s laws. This imagery underscores the poet’s internal conflict and recognition of shortcomings. Further, the poet contrasts earth and heaven, saying that ‘the circumference earth is, heav’n the centre.’ This phrase symbolizes the poet’s focus on worldly concerns (the circumference) that orbit around a neglected spiritual core (the heavenly center). The poet reflects that his life is filled with ‘dregs’, the lesser, unrefined aspects of his being, while ‘quintessence’, or the purest part of himself, is scarce. This ‘quintessence’ is described as the ‘spirit and good extract’ of the poet’s heart, amounting to a ‘many hundredth part’ — a small fraction of life’s essence. The poet realizes that, despite attempts to cultivate holiness, his internal state largely lacks spiritual substance. The final lines shift to a plea for restoration. The poet calls on God to ‘restore thine image’, asking for renewal and transformation. This restoration request implies a yearning to reflect God’s nature more fully, as humanity is believed to be made in God’s image. The poet acknowledges that his heart ‘scarce… can grone’ to God, reflecting the difficulty he feels in truly connecting with or petitioning the divine. The poem ends with reference to the biblical account of the Ten Commandments, when God ‘didst write in stone’. This allusion serves as both a reminder of God’s past willingness to communicate directly and a plea for a similar intervention to etch divine law into the poet’s heart. The poem examines themes of introspection, human fallibility, and a longing for divine transformation. The poet’s self-examination reveals struggle to balance earthly concerns with spiritual commitments, culminating in a plea for God’s direct action to restore spiritual integrity.
