George Herbert's poems abound with surprise:  stanzas flowing into the shape of an altar or angel wings; hidden words threading together a key theme; anagrams letting letters dance (Mary:  "How well her name an 'Army' doth present/In whom the Lord of Hosts did pitch his tent!"). When we read about Herbert's life through those who knew him, a similar sense of wonder emerges.  Here was a minister who restored the run-down Bremerton church with his own money, consoled ill parishioners, aided the poor, and vigiled with the dying.  He became so beloved that, in the words of Izaak Walton, even the farmers "let their plows rest when Mr. Herbert's saint's bell rung to prayers, that they might also offer their devotion to God with him." 
-- Patricia Carlson

"Teach me thy love to know;
That this new light, which now I see,
May both the work and workman show:
Then by a sunne-beam I will climbe to thee."

George Herbert was the fifth son of a distinguished Welsh family.  He received a superb education at Westminster School and Trinity College, Cambridge, where he excelled in the classics as well as modern languages.  In 1620 he was named Public Orator of the university, a prestigious post that required him to compose eloquent speeches for university occasions.  The post was often a stepping stone to high political office, and it appears that Herbert cultivated ambitions in that direction.  In the early 1620’s he served a term as member of Parliament.  All the signs in his life pointed toward a brilliant career.  But all the while this worldly success was in tension with a very different ambition.

In 1626 Herbert resigned his position and announced his desire to seek holy orders in the Anglican church.  His friends tried to persuade him that this was a terrible waste of his talents and opportunities.  But his mind was set.  In 1629 he married Jane Danvers.  The following year he was ordained a priest and accepted the position of rector of the church in Bemerton, a tiny rural parish in Salisbury Plain.

He found the impoverished church half in ruins.  The rectory was nearly uninhabitable.  Surely his country parishioners wondered how long this highborn gentleman from the university would last.  But Herbert’s sincere faith and genuine love quickly won their hearts.  By all accounts he was a model priest who found genuine happiness and fulfillment in serving the spiritual needs of his humble parish.  Sadly, his ministry lasted only three years.  He died of consumption on March 1, 1633 at the age of forty.  So his name might have vanished into the obscurity he willingly accepted.  But before dying he entrusted to a friend a manuscript of poems.  Their publication after his death eventually established the reputation of George Herbert, vicar of Bemerton, as one the greatest poets in the English language.

All his poems deal with the religious life.  They are written in a simple but fresh style that seems to reflect the virtues of balance and moderation so prized in Anglican spirituality.  As a priest, Herbert valued the rich language of the Book of Common Prayer, the loveliness of church hymns, and the beauty of stained glass.  Indeed, in one of his poems he likens the role of a preacher to a window through which God’s grace may shine.  Similarly, Herbert’s poetry has a light and transparent quality.  But the simplicity of his style is deceptive.  In his poems Herbert did not shrink from laying bare his own soul.  Writing verse was a form of prayer, a way of contemplating God, of offering praise and giving thanks, but also a way of questioning and even arguing with his Creator.  So personal is his poetic voice that it is impossible to respond to his poems without also forming an impression of the character and virtue of their author, the man his parishioners called “Holy Mr. Herbert.”

One of his most moving poems, “Prayer,” consists of nothing but concise images, piled one upon the other:

            Prayer the churches banquet, Angels age,
            God’s breath in man returning to his birth,   
            The soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgrimage,           
            The Christian plummet sounding heav’n and earth.

Each and every succeeding image – “Reversed thunder,” “Heaven in ordinarie” – almost constitutes a sermon in itself, until the poem rises to a breathless whisper: “The land of spices; something understood.”

His most famous metaphysical poem, “Love,” employs the courtly language of courtesy to describe the encounter between Love and the soul:  “Love bade me welcome:  yet my soul drew back / Guiltie of dust and sinne.”  Feeling unworthy, the soul shrinks from the invitation to partake of Love’s banquet.  But Love persists, noting that we have been created worthy to receive him and that he himself has taken on the blame for our sins:  “You must sit down, sayes Love, and taste my meat: / So I did sit and eat.”

At the time of Herbert’s death, there were doubtless many friends from former days who regretted that such a promising career had ended with so little accomplishment.  Herbert would have smiled on their incomprehension.  In his short life he had discovered the secret of happiness:  “Heaven in ordinarie.”

Additional Resources
W. H. Auden, ed., Herbert: Poems and Prose (New York:  Penguin, 1973).
For quotes, essays, a biography, a timeline, and more, see the Metaphysical Poets website.