George Herbert, poet and Anglican priest, commemorated by the Anglican Communion on 27 February

George Herbert

(3 April 1593 - 1 March 1633)

Some of the poems of George Herbert, born in Wales of English parents, are in the edition of the Breviary published by the bishops of Australia, England & Wales, Ireland and Scotland, the one I normally use. He took holy orders in the Anglican Church when already in his mid-30s and served as rector of St Andrew's Church, Bemerton, near Salisbury in the south-west of England. He is buried there. During his three years there he showed a special love for the poor. Wikipedia says, 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.

St Andrew's Church, Bemerton [Wikipedia]

One of Herbert's poems in my breviary is Love, one I often read. Here it is read by Ralph Fiennes.

Love bade me welcome, yet my soul drew back, 

                              Guilty of dust and sin. 
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack 

                              From my first entrance in, 
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning 
                              
If I lacked anything.

 
'A guest', I answered, 'worthy to be here'; 

                              Love said, 'You shall be he.' 
'I, the unkind, the ungrateful? ah my dear, 

                              I cannot look on thee.' 
Love took my hand and smiling did reply, 

                              'Who made the eyes but I'?

'Truth, Lord, but I have marred them; let my shame 

                              Go where it doth deserve.' 
'And know you not', says Love, 'who bore the blame?'

                              'My dear, then I will serve.' 
'You must sit down', says Love, 'and taste my meat.' 

                              So I did sit and eat. 

Salisbury Cathedral

John Constable, c.1825 [Web Gallery of Art]

Twice a day George Herbert conducted services in his parish church and twice a week he went to nearby St Mary's Cathedral, Salisbury, to take part in services there. Constable's painting captures the beauty of the church with its magnificent spire.

Herbert's poem King of Glory, King of Peace is well known as a hymn to the tune Gwalchmai.

Another poem of Herbert in the Breviary is Let all the world in every corner sing, here in a setting by English composer Ralph Vaughan Williams: 

I have an idea that George Herbert, though an Anglican, would find himself a kindred spirit with Benedict XVI because of his sense of beauty and of liturgy and with Pope Francis because he was one of those shepherds living with the smell of the sheep.

Christ in a second-hand car

A poem can often help us see something ‘ordinary’ in a new way or it may help us see something quite extraordinary from the vantage point of ordinariness – bringing us to see a new aspect of its extraordinariness.

Such is a poem in Irish (Gaelic) by Seán Ó Leocháin published in 1986 in Aithrí Thoirní and which I came across in an article in Comhar in May 1992. It is appropriate for the Solemnity of Corpus Christi, celebrated tomorrow here in the Philippines and in Ireland.

I’ve never had the gift of writing poetry but will attempt a translation of the poem.

Nuair a tháinig an sagart
When the priest came
chuig m’athair inniu,
to my father today
mar a thagann de ghnáth
as he usually comes
i dtús na míosa,at the beginning of the month
le lón na beatha
with the food of life
a thabhairt d’fhearto give to a man
nach bhfágann an chlúid
who’s been bed-ridden
in aon chor le tamall,
for some time now,
ní hé an gnás ab ait liom féin.it wasn’t the rite that was strange to me.

Ní hé ba mhó

What really
ba bhun le m’iontas
caused my wonder wasn't
fear dá chlú,a man of such repute,
dá chleacht, dá éirimsuch experience, such intelligence
ar cuairt na sean
visiting the sick
i dtús na míosaat the beginning of the month
le comhairle a leasawith good advice
a chur ar dhreamto give to those
nach bhfágfadh clúid na haithrí choíche,who would never leave the cover of repentance again,

ach Críost a theachtbut Christ coming
i gcarr athláimhe
in a second-hand car
a cheannaigh an sagart
the priest bought
ó fhear i Ros Comáin.From a man in Roscommon.