Christian Art | George Herbert | Sepulchre | The Church | Trinitie Sunday
George Herbert | The Temple | The Church | Trinitie Sunday
Lord, who hast form’d me out of mud,
And hast redeem’d me through thy bloud,
And sanctifi’d me to do good;
Purge all my sinnes done heretofore:
For I confesse my heavie score,
And I will strive to sinne no more.
Enrich my heart, mouth, hands in me,
With faith, with hope, with charitie;
That I may runne, rise, rest with thee.
George Herbert | The Temple | The Church | Trinitie Sunday
The poem reflects on human relationship with God through three key dimensions: creation, redemption, and sanctification. Each stanza builds on this progression, portraying Herbert’s journey from origins in divine creation to ultimate aspiration of resting with God. The poem is spare yet purposeful, mirroring simplicity of the poem’s theological focus.
The first stanza establishes Herbert’s dependence on God as both creator and redeemer. By stating, ‘Lord, who hast formed me out of mud,’ Herbert underscores his earthly and humble origins, drawing attention to the finite nature of humanity. Reference to redemption ‘through thy blood’ shifts the focus to Christ’s sacrifice, situating Herbert within the Christian framework of salvation. The final line, ‘sanctified me to do good,’ suggests that creation and redemption are not ends in themselves but are directed toward a life of moral purpose. The stanza implicitly reflects the work of God the Father, this setting the foundation for the spiritual journey.
In the second stanza, Herbert pleas for forgiveness. He confesses his ‘heavy score’ of sins and ask for divine cleansing, acknowledging inability to overcome sin without God’s intervention. The expression ‘I will strive to sin no more’ introduces a theme of human effort, though this remains subordinate to divine grace. The stanza encapsulates tension between dependence on God’s mercy and personal commitment to moral reformation. This interplay reflects the redemptive role of Christ, who reconciles Herbert’s failings through his sacrifice, linking the stanza to the Son’s redemptive work within the Trinity.
The third stanza focuses on spiritual renewal and sanctification. Herbert asks for the theological virtues of faith, hope, and charity, which traditionally signify the action of the Holy Spirit. The mention of ‘heart, mouth, hands’ emphasizes an holistic transformation, aligning Herbert’s internal disposition, spoken word, and physical action with divine purpose. The closing aspiration, ‘that I may run, rise, rest with thee,’ represents culmination of the spiritual journey. Each verb marks a distinct phase: active pursuit of God’s will, elevation toward spiritual union, and ultimate peace in God’s presence. This progression ties the final stanza to the Spirit’s sanctifying work, completing the Trinitarian structure of the poem.
Theologically, the poem’s three stanzas echo the Trinity, with creation, redemption, and sanctification corresponding to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. This structure gives the poem a unifying logic, reinforcing connection between divine action and human response. Each stanza is both distinct and interdependent, mirroring the cohesive yet differentiated roles within the Trinity.
Herbert’s voice is marked by humility and dependence, yet it is not passive. While recognizing need for divine grace, Herbert affirms his responsibility to strive, confess, and embody virtue. This balance between divine initiative and human effort underscores the cooperative nature of sanctification in Christian theology.
The poem concludes with a vision of ultimate harmony, where human striving leads to divine rest. The poem’s simple form and language reflect an intentional focus on the essentials of faith, presenting theological narrative that is both personal and universal.
It is the Sermon on the Mount. Our Lord has presented the crowd with the Beatitudes. We have been taught to know the gateway to heaven. These are the great Christian truths to which we aspire [ … ]
As I contemplate the Baptism of Jesus, I am invited to reflect on my own baptism and the significance of this sacrament in my life. I am reminded that, like Jesus, I am a beloved child of God, called to participate in Jesus’ mission of love and reconciliation. I am challenged to live out my baptismal promises, to renounce sin and evil, and to follow Jesus on the path of discipleship. And I am encouraged to draw upon the grace of the Holy Spirit, which is poured out upon me in my baptism, to transform me from within and to make me a new creation in Christ [ … ]
We process. Glass exhibition cases, old reliquaries. A forearm here; here a nun’s fingertip. In chapel, at a glance, there are the usual faces. But they all stand to attention. Jonathan breaks from the procession to – fire the organ with oomph and dignity: Ride on! ride on in majesty! The angel-squadrons of the sky look down with sad and wondering eyes to see the approaching sacrifice. When we’ve done the readings, the Arch holds that tree in his hands to deliver the homily. He rocks quietly on his feet, some few seconds, as if balance defeated it. A way you might affect as the Spirit moves… Copying. Then he says: ‘Our palm fronds may seem to us today rather dry. I mean this not in a literal sense, but by the standards of those who originally lined the roadways in order to welcome Jesus into Jerusalem, as they proclaimed Jesus to be the Messiah, who would be clambering up and ripping their palm branches fresh from off the trees. I think perhaps also our faith is somewhat distant from that of the people there on that highroad into Jerusalem, and something of our sense of the meaning has shifted in vividness from what it was then. And of course the expectation of all those many people is markedly different, but in many important respects the same. There are the same essential qualities to all our faith in God, which springs complete from our humanity, and that is one and the same in value for all of us, and time is consistent on this point. So then, let us renew the fullness of Catholic faith, and let us ask the Lord’s blessing as we embark upon our Holy Week. ‘Our Lord enters into Jerusalem in order to refresh us. He is to die in order that we may have life. There is a living reality here, both spiritual and as entangled in the joy of our daily living. We have Ladies’ Day where I grew up. They still have it, and they close the roads off, and little children parade, dressed-up like spring brides. When I was a boy, there was a May Day festival, and there was a May pole on the field, with the people dancing, like Morris dancers might be one way of visualizing this if you’ve never seen it, with their ribbons tied onto the top of the May pole, and they would weave around each other, dressing the pole, which is what we called it. It was like a dance with red and white and blue ribbons all hung off of the top of the May pole, which stood there all year, only like a telegraph pole, but it was concreted in, and then there was a slide, and swings – one baby-swing and two you could have a go at – terrible health and safety but that’s what it was in those days. ‘There was a round-a-bout – we used to run it round and round to try to get it off its central axis. It were rusty as anything and creaked like mad – on concrete. And climb up where it was all greased up at the top. Ruth, who was big as the next four of us, used to sit there sucking on the lollipops we nicked for her from Raddies, and she’d direct matters. We were trying to destroy it, and get it to dislodge from its central axis, and fly away – roll off into that farmer’s field, which he only ever kept for silage, but we never succeeded. There was a car someone had left there so we spent forever smashing that up, until someone who lived in one of the houses there took exception to our doing that, so he put thick grease under the door handles and gave us a right talking to. ‘It would only be a few stands, hot-dogs and things like that. The man selling the hot dogs would have his records on full blast. There’d be a couple of set-up stalls. Air-rifles – that sort of thing. But we all had them, and we all went shooting, of course, if not with twelve bores then with smaller gauge. Or pay a pound – I have no idea how much it was in actual fact then – it might have only been a few pennies – and we’d get all that time smashing up the crockery the man would put up for us to smash on the dressers. That was my particular favourite thing to do at these festivals, by the way, in case you were wondering. You got a little bucket of so many cricket balls. ‘I dread to think what went into those hot dogs. Probably EE rules would forbid it now. But it was a fair mix in those days. A lot of young people then were C of E. We’ve done a lot to hang onto our young people, which is a tremendous encouragement when you consider how things are, while in recent decades the Church of England hasn’t been so successful. People still want it on feast days and what are essentially now civic celebrations. It’s strange to see, though, how all the little stands there people have are run by the police and people like that along those lines. There’s no May pole. That was a sort of faith that ran and ran beneath all the theoreticals of it in the 1960s and the 1970s and into the 1980s. The May pole isn’t there now in the particular place I’m thinking of. Considering May poles were officially suppressed hundreds of years ago – as a part of the protestant reformation. One or two of you are probably thinking I’m remembering things from that time! ‘I should have liked to say that those processionals were so hardwired into us, that even after the last thirty years, when I became a bishop, they are still with us. They were […]
