Selected Poems by George Herbert

[John Nyberg]

Antiphon (II)

Chor. Praised be the God of love
Men.  Here below,
Angels. And here above:
Cho.Who hath dealt his mercies so,
Ang. To his friend,
Men. And to his foe;

Cho.That both grace and glorie tend
Ang. Us of old,
Men. And us in th'end.
Cho.The great shepherd of the fold
Ang.Us did make,
Men. For us was sold.

Cho.He our foes in pieces brake;
Ang. Him we touch;
Men. And him we take.
Cho.Wherefore since that he is such,
Ang. We adore,
Men. And we do crouch.

Cho.Lord, thy praises should be more.
Men. We have none,
Ang. And we no store.
Cho.Praised be the God alone,
Who hath made of two folds one.

 

[John Nyberg]

Dooms Day
“COme away,
Make no delay.
Summon all the dust to rise,
Till it stirre, and rubbe the eyes;
While this member jogs the other,
Each one whispring, Live you brother?

Come away,
Make this the day.
Dust, alas, no musick feels,
But thy trumpet: then it kneels,
As peculiar notes and strains
Cure Tarantulaes raging pains.

Come away,
O make no stay!
Let the graves make their confession,
Lest at length they plead possession:
Fleshes stubbornnesse may have
Read that lesson to the grave.

Come away,
Thy flock doth stray.
Some to windes their bodie lend,
And in them may drown a friend:
Some in noisome vapours grow
To a plague and publick wo.

Come away,
Help our decay.
Man is out of order hurl’d,
Parcell’d out to all the world.
Lord, thy broken consort raise,
And the musick shall be praise.”

Even so, come, Lord Jesus.

 

[John Nyberg]

Goerge Herbert’s Prayer (I) is one of his most provocative poems. Definitely a view on prayer I had not previously encountered:


“Prayer the church's banquet, angel's 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
Engine against th' Almighty, sinner's tow'r,
Reversed thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear,
The six-days world transposing in an hour,
A kind of tune, which all things hear and fear;
Softness, and peace, and joy, and love, and bliss,
Exalted manna, gladness of the best,
Heaven in ordinary, man well drest,
The milky way, the bird of Paradise,
Church-bells beyond the stars heard, the soul's blood,
The land of spices; something understood.”

 

[John Nyberg]

Prayer (II)
“Of what an easie quick accesse,
My blessed Lord, art thou! how suddenly
May our requests thine eare invade!
To shew that state dislikes not easinesse,
If I but lift mine eyes, my suit is made:
Thou canst no more not heare, than thou canst die.

Of what supreme almightie power
Is thy great arm which spans the east and west,
And tacks the centre to the sphere!
By it do all things live their measur'd houre:
We cannot ask the thing, which is not there,
Blaming the shallownesse of our request.

Of what unmeasurable love
Art thou possest, who, when thou couldst not die,
Wert fain to take our flesh and curse,
And for our sakes in person sinne reprove;
That by destroying that which ty'd thy purse,
Thou mightst make way for liberalitie!

Since then these three wait on thy throne,
Ease, Power, and Love; I value prayer so,
That were I to leave all but one,
Wealth, fame, endowments, vertues, all should go;
I and deare prayer would together dwell,
And quickly gain, for each inch lost, an ell.”

 

[John Nyberg]

Picking back up again here. Herbert has a few longer poems in English, one of the being The Sacrifice. I’ll post it several stanzas at a time.

Stanzas 1-7:

​

Oh all ye, who passe by, whose eyes and minde To worldly things are sharp, but to me blinde; To me, who took eyes that I might you finde: Was ever grief like mine? The Princes of my people make a head Against their Maker: they do wish me dead, Who cannot wish, except I give them bread; Was ever grief like mine? Without me each one, who doth now me brave, Had to this day been an Egyptian slave. They use that power against me, which I gave: Was ever grief like mine? Mine own Apostle, who the bag did beare, Though he had all I had, did not forbeare To sell me also, and to put me there: Was ever grief like mine? For thirtie pence he did my death devise, Who at three hundred did the ointment prize, Not half so sweet as my sweet sacrifice: Was ever grief like mine? Therefore my soul melts, and my hearts deare treasure Drops bloud (the onely beads) my words to measure: O let this cup passe, if it be thy pleasure: Was ever grief like mine? These drops being temper’d with sinners tears A Balsome are for both the Hemispheres Curing all wounds, but mine; all, but my fears: Was ever grief like mine?

 

[John Nyberg]

The Sacrifice stanzas 8-13

“Yet my Disciples sleep; I cannot gain
One houre of watching; but their drowsie brain
Comforts not me, and doth my doctrine stain:
Was ever grief like mine?

Arise, arise, they come. Look how they runne!
Alas! what haste they make to be undone!
How with their lanterns do they seek the sunne!
Was ever grief like mine?

With clubs and staves they seek me, as a thief,
Who am the Way and Truth, the true relief;
Most true to those, who are my greatest grief:
Was ever grief like mine?

Judas, dost thou betray me with a kisse?
Canst thou finde hell about my lips? and misse
Of life, just at the gates of life and blisse?
Was ever grief like mine?

See, they lay hold on me, not with the hands
Of faith, but furie: yet at their commands
I suffer binding, who have loos’d their bands
Was ever grief like mine?

All my Disciples flie; fear puts a barre
Betwixt my friends and me. They leave the starre,
That brought the wise men of the East from farre.
Was ever grief like mine?”

 

[No Other Name]

Does writing this here in bits and pieces aid you in your own poetry?

 

[John Nyberg]

Does writing this here in bits and pieces aid you in your own poetry?

Great question, Brad. As much as I enjoy writing poetry, I enjoy reading great poems even more. This thread has definitely helped me think more deeply about my favorite poet and enjoy his work even more. I think that does help me when it comes time to write

 

[py3ak]

Unlocked by request.

 

[philomath]

Thanks for unlocking this! Here's one of my favorite poems by George Herbert, which I'll share some thoughts on after a bit:

The Windows

Lord, how can man preach thy eternal word?
He is a brittle crazy glass;
Yet in thy temple thou dost him afford
This glorious and transcendent place,
To be a window, through thy grace.

But when thou dost anneal in glass thy story,
Making thy life to shine within
The holy preachers, then the light and glory
More reverend grows, and more doth win;
Which else shows waterish, bleak, and thin.

Doctrine and life, colors and light, in one
When they combine and mingle, bring
A strong regard and awe; but speech alone
Doth vanish like a flaring thing,
And in the ear, not conscience, ring.

 

[philomath]

Here are some of my thoughts:

Lord, how can man preach thy eternal word?
He is a brittle crazy glass;
Yet in thy temple thou dost him afford
This glorious and transcendent place,
To be a window, through thy grace.

How can man, jagged with sin, easily broken, preach God's eternal word? Through His grace. God calls the minister to a high calling, to be a window into His eternal word. Just as a window is the means by which light comes into a church, the preacher is to called to illuminate God's Word to his congregation.

But when thou dost anneal in glass thy story,
Making thy life to shine within
The holy preachers, then the light and glory
More reverend grows, and more doth win;
Which else shows waterish, bleak, and thin.

Stained glass is in mind here, and is compared to common glass. During annealing, painted common glass is heated to set the pigments permanantly; in other words it is transformed into stained glass. When God causes His life to shine within a preacher, there is a beautiful transformation. People are drawn to the beauty of stained glass, and comparatively scorn common glass.

Doctrine and life, colors and light, in one
When they combine and mingle, bring
A strong regard and awe; but speech alone
Doth vanish like a flaring thing,
And in the ear, not conscience, ring.

Light reveals the beauty of a stained glass window. Without it, you could hardly tell the color. The life of the minister matters. His words vanish quickly and are like a ringing in the ear if he does not have the life befitting one called to ministry. But when he does, it brings strong regard and awe, and rings within his congregation's conscience.

The Windows reminds me of the the importance and stringency of the qualifications for ministers of The Gospel in Titus 1 and 1 Timothy 3.

 

[John Nyberg]

@philomath

Great pick, Jacob. Doctrine is the window or form of the Christian life, good works beautify and color it, bringing glory to God.

Matthew 5:16

 

[philomath]

Reading through Herbert, I'm struck by the many sobering poem he has. It'll be my aim to share a few of these over the next day. Here's one:

Self-condemnation

Thou who condemnest Jewish hate,
For choosing Barabbas a murderer
Before the Lord of glorie;
Look back upon thine own estate,
Call home thine eye (that busie wanderer)
That choice may be thy storie.

He that doth love, and love amisse
This worlds delights before true Christian joy,
Hath made a Jewish choice:
The world an ancient murderer is;
Thousands of souls it hath and doth destroy
With her enchanting voice.

He that hath made a sorrie wedding
Between his soul and gold, and hath preferr’d
False gain before the true,
Hath done what he condemnes in reading:
For he hath sold for money his deare Lord,
And is a Judas-Jew.

Thus we prevent the last great day,
And judge our selves. That light, which sin and passion
Did before dimme and choke,
When once those snuffes are ta’ne away,
Shines bright and cleare, ev’n unto condemnation,
Without excuse or cloke.

 

[philomath]

Another sobering poem by Herbert:

Mortification

How soon doth man decay!
When clothes are taken from a chest of sweets
To swaddle infants, whose young breath
Scarce knows the way;
Those clouts are little winding sheets,
Which do consigne and send them unto death.

When boyes go first to bed,
They step into their voluntarie graves,
Sleep bindes them fast; onely their breath
Makes them not dead:
Successive nights, like rolling waves,
Convey them quickly, who are bound for death.

When youth is frank and free,
And calls for musick, while his veins do swell,
All day exchanging mirth and breath
In companie;
That musick summons to the knell,
Which shall befriend him at the house of death.

When man grows staid and wise,
Getting a house and home, where he may move
Within the circle of his breath,
Schooling his eyes;
That dumbe inclosure maketh love
Unto the coffin, that attends his death.

When age grows low and weak,
Marking his grave, and thawing ev’ry yeare,
Till all do melt, and drown his breath
When he would speak;
A chair or litter shows the biere,
Which shall convey him to the house of death.

Man, ere he is aware,
Hath put together a solemnitie,
And drest his herse, while he has breath
As yet to spare:
Yet Lord; instruct us so to die,
That all these dyings may be life in death.

 

[John Nyberg]

Regarding Self Condemnation:
What verses come to mind when reading this poem? I find it interesting that Barabbas is used as a symbol of misaligned love, not hate or murder.

Lines 7-9: “He that doth love, and love amisse
This worlds delights before true Christian joy,
Hath made a Jewish choice…”

The sin of the Jews is seen not as murder, but as loving the murderer instead of the Messiah. Barrabas is a symbol of their worldly hopes for a worldly kingdom. They want a king capable of violence. Likewise we also choose power, worldly influence and success, and desire to attain it through any means.

For me, 1 John 2:15-17 comes to mind:

“Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. 16 For all that is in the world—the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride of life—is not from the Father but is from the world. 17;And the world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever.”

 

[philomath]

Regarding Self Condemnation:
What verses come to mind when reading this poem? I find it interesting that Barabbas is used as a symbol of misaligned love, not hate or murder.

Lines 7-9: “He that doth love, and love amisse
This worlds delights before true Christian joy,
Hath made a Jewish choice…”

The sin of the Jews is seen not as murder, but as loving the murderer instead of the Messiah. Barrabas is a symbol of their worldly hopes for a worldly kingdom. They want a king capable of violence. Likewise we also choose power, worldly influence and success, and desire to attain it through any means.

For me, 1 John 2:15-17 comes to mind:

“Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. 16 For all that is in the world—the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride of life—is not from the Father but is from the world. 17;And the world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever.”

That's an excellent way to put it. Many verses come to mind for me, but I'll keep it to three sets:

Mark 8:36-37 "For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul? 37 For what can a man give in return for his soul?"

2 Timothy 3:1-5 "But understand this, that in the last days there will come times of difficulty. 2 For people will be lovers of self, lovers of money, proud, arrogant, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, 3 heartless, unappeasable, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not loving good, 4 treacherous, reckless, swollen with conceit, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, 5 having the appearance of godliness, but denying its power. Avoid such people."

2 Timothy 4:10 "For Demas, in love with this present world, has deserted me and gone to Thessalonica. Crescens has gone to Galatia"

I especially think 2 Timothy 3:1-5 gets to the heart of what Herbert is calling on people to repent of, specifically focusing on the end of verse 4: "rather than lovers of God".

Lines 13-18:
"He that hath made a sorrie wedding
Between his soul and gold, and hath preferr’d
False gain before the true,
Hath done what he condemnes in reading:
For he hath sold for money his deare Lord,
And is a Judas-Jew."

 

[philomath]

The Starre

Bright spark, shot from a brighter place,
Where beams surround my Saviours face,
Canst thou be any where
So well as there?

Yet, if thou wilt from thence depart,
Take a bad lodging in my heart;
For thou canst make a debter,
And make it better.

First with thy fire-work burn to dust
Folly, and worse then folly, lust:
Then with thy light refine,
And make it shine:

So disengag’d from sinne and sicknesse,
Touch it with thy celestiall quicknesse,
That it may hang and move
After thy love.

Then with our trinitie of light,
Motion, and heat, let’s take our flight
Unto the place where thou
Before didst bow.

Get me a standing there, and place
Among the beams, which crown the face
Of him, who dy’d to part
Sinne and my heart:

That so among the rest I may
Glitter, and curle, and winde as they:
That winding is their fashion
Of adoration.

Sure thou wilt joy, by gaining me
To flie home like a laden bee
Unto that hive of beams
And garland-streams.

 

[John Nyberg]

What strikes me about this poem is that it inverts our typical perspective of the universe. The heavenly bodies seem to revolve around us, and the further stars appear to create a mighty and distant circumference. Yet for Herbert, the light of the star must move from viewing the spectacular blessedness of Gods presence, and travel great distances to inspire the wretched human heart.

Stanza 2:

“Yet, if thou wilt from thence depart,
Take a bad lodging in my heart;
For thou canst make a debter,
And make it better.”

The next stanzas are a bit difficult for me to understand or accept. Is Herbert attributing divine actions to the influence of the stars?

What, or who, is said to “burn to dust
Folly, and worse then folly, lust:”? (Third stanza).

Also the fourth stanza:
“So disengag’d from sinne and sicknesse,
Touch it with thy celestiall quicknesse,
That it may hang and move
After thy love.” (Granted “thy love” is likely referring to the object of celestial adoration, namely God himself)

It almost makes me wonder if the starre is more of a personal, angelic type of influence.

At any rate I think the poem ends well enough for the soul returns home to that great heavenly circumference which turns out to be the center as well:

“That so among the rest I may
Glitter, and curle, and winde as they:
That winding is their fashion
Of adoration.

Sure thou wilt joy, by gaining me
To flie home like a laden bee
Unto that hive of beams
And garland-streams.”

 

[1689owen]

Take a bad lodging in my heart

This line made me think that it's about the Holy Spirit. But I may be reading it to pietistically/anachronistic.

 

[John Nyberg]

This line made me think that it's about the Holy Spirit. But I may be reading it to pietistically/anachronistic.

Definitely a plausible reading. I think what disinclined me to it initially is where the celestial light is said to return to heaven where it “Before didst bow.” I’ll have to reread the poem again and see if that fits.

 

[John Nyberg]

@1689owen You may be on to something Jonathan. On a hunch I reread the only other poem of his I remember that uses stellar imagery titled Whitsunday. The first stanza reads:

“Listen sweet Dove unto my song,
And spread thy golden wings in me;
Hatching my tender heart so long,
Till it get wing, and fly away with thee.”

Being that Whitsunday employs similar imagery, it is definitely possible that The Starre is in fact about the Holy Spirit. I am not sure that resolves all of its issues though. Anyway, here is the full text of Whitsunday:

“Listen sweet Dove unto my song,
And spread thy golden wings in me;
Hatching my tender heart so long,
Till it get wing, and flie away with thee.

Where is that fire which once descended
On thy Apostles? thou didst then
Keep open house, richly attended,
Feasting all comers by twelve chosen men.

Such glorious gifts thou didst bestow,
That th’ earth did like a heav’n appeare;
The starres were coming down to know
If they might mend their wages, and serve here.

The sunne, which once did shine alone,
Hung down his head, and wisht for night,
When he beheld twelve sunnes for one
Going about the world, and giving light.

But since those pipes of gold, which brought
That cordiall water to our ground,
Were cut and martyr’d by the fault
Of those, who did themselves through their side wound,

Thou shutt’st the doore, and keep’st within;
Scarce a good joy creeps through the chink:
And if the braves of conqu’ring sinne
Did not excite thee, we should wholly sink.

Lord, though we change, thou art the same;
The same sweet God of love and light:
Restore this day, for thy great name,
Unto his ancient and miraculous right.

 

[philomath]

Good thoughts @1689owen @John Nyberg ! Certainly something to chew on.

One thing I loved about this poem was the metaphysical nature of it and what seems to me reminiscent of medieval/Renaissance cosmology. I was immediately reminded of something C.S. Lewis wrote in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader:

"In our world,” said Eustace, “a star is a huge ball of flaming gas.”
“Even in your world, my son, that is not what a star is but only what it is made of."

I'm not quite to the point of thinking "The Starre", or "Bright Spark" is The Holy Spirit, athough I can see it. I think there are a few things that lean me a different way, the main being the metaphysical nature of the poem. I consider when reading, what if "the Starre" is just a star? Of course it couldn't be just a star in the way modern secularists would think of it, but something more, something sentient, yet still a star. See the quote above by Lewis on my thought process.

The next stanzas are a bit difficult for me to understand or accept. Is Herbert attributing divine actions to the influence of the stars?

What, or who, is said to “burn to dust
Folly, and worse then folly, lust:”? (Third stanza).

Also the fourth stanza:
“So disengag’d from sinne and sicknesse,
Touch it with thy celestiall quicknesse,
That it may hang and move
After thy love.” (Granted “thy love” is likely referring to the object of celestial adoration, namely God himself)

It almost makes me wonder if the starre is more of a personal, angelic type of influence.

This is one of the interesting spots of how I see Herbert's metaphysics at play. I think the starre is a personal, pseudo-angelic (not quite sure of it being an Angel-Proper, although there is some room for that in medieval/Renaissance cosmological thought) influence. I think it's also a regular star.

How I read "burn to dust folly, and worse then folly, lust" and "So disengag’d from sinne and sicknesse, touch it with thy celestiall quicknesse, that it may hang and move after thy love", is not that the starre is the cause, but the means. In other words, it seems in this poem that Herbert sees The Starre as a means The Lord will use to do this, due to its closeness to him:

Bright spark, shot from a brighter place,
Where beams surround my Saviours face

Get me a standing there, and place
Among the beams, which crown the face
Of him, who dy’d to part
Sinne and my heart:

 

[John Nyberg]

One thing I loved about this poem was the metaphysical nature of it and what seems to me reminiscent of medieval/Renaissance cosmology. I was immediately reminded of something C.S. Lewis wrote in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader:

Fantastic point. I have found Lewis’ The Discarded Image to be a great introduction to medieval cosmology.

 

[John Nyberg]

A DIALOGUE-ANTHEM.

CHRISTIAN, DEATH.

Chr.	ALAS, poor Death ! where is thy glory ? Where is thy famous force, thy ancient sting ?
Dea.	Alas, poor mortal, void of story ! Go spell and read how I have killed thy King.
Chr.	Poor Death ! and who was hurt thereby ? Thy curse being laid on Him makes thee accurst.
Dea.	Let losers talk, yet thou shalt die ; These arms shall crush thee.
Chr.	Spare not, do thy worst. I shall be one day better than before ; Thou so much worse, that thou shalt be no more.

 

[philomath]

A DIALOGUE-ANTHEM.

CHRISTIAN, DEATH.

Chr.	ALAS, poor Death ! where is thy glory ? Where is thy famous force, thy ancient sting ?
Dea.	Alas, poor mortal, void of story ! Go spell and read how I have killed thy King.
Chr.	Poor Death ! and who was hurt thereby ? Thy curse being laid on Him makes thee accurst.
Dea.	Let losers talk, yet thou shalt die ; These arms shall crush thee.
Chr.	Spare not, do thy worst. I shall be one day better than before ; Thou so much worse, that thou shalt be no more.

Beautiful , thanks for sharing! It reminds me very much of Holy Sonet 10, Death be not proud, by John Donne. I would like to take a close look at both of poems and do a side by side comparison soon. I'll just leave some general thoughts for the time being though. Both poems shows how prideful and arrogant death is, and how death is brought to nothing by our Lord. In him, we are truly victors.

 

[John Nyberg]

It reminds me very much of Holy Sonet 10, Death be not proud, by John Donne.

Interesting! I’ll have to look at that poem again. It certainly would be interesting to note any similarities, considering Herbert and Donne were very close acquaintances. In fact, his mother Magdalen was an intimate friend of John Donne. From Izaak Walton’s The Life of Mr. George Herbert (1670):

‘For these reasons she endeared him [George] to her own company, and continued with him in Oxford four years; in which time her great and harmless wit, her cheerful gravity, and her obliging behaviour, gained her an acquaintance and friendship with most of any eminent worth or learning, that were at that time in or near that University; and particularly with Mr. John Donne, who then came accidentally to that place, in this time of her being there. It was that John Donne, who was after Dr. Donne, and Dean of Saint Paul’s, London: and he, at his leaving Oxford, writ and left there, in verse, a character of the beauties of her body and mind: of the first he says,


No Spring nor Summer-beauty has such grace,
As I have seen in an Autumnal face.

Of the latter he says,


In all her words to every hearer fit,
You may at revels, or at council sit.

The rest of her character may be read in his printed poems, in that Elegy which bears the name of "The Autumnal Beauty." For both he and she were then past the meridian of man’s life.’

 

[philomath]

Interesting! I’ll have to look at that poem again. It certainly would be interesting to note any similarities, considering Herbert and Donne were very close acquaintances. In fact, his mother Magdalen was an intimate friend of John Donne. From Izaak Walton’s The Life of Mr. George Herbert (1670):

‘For these reasons she endeared him [George] to her own company, and continued with him in Oxford four years; in which time her great and harmless wit, her cheerful gravity, and her obliging behaviour, gained her an acquaintance and friendship with most of any eminent worth or learning, that were at that time in or near that University; and particularly with Mr. John Donne, who then came accidentally to that place, in this time of her being there. It was that John Donne, who was after Dr. Donne, and Dean of Saint Paul’s, London: and he, at his leaving Oxford, writ and left there, in verse, a character of the beauties of her body and mind: of the first he says,


No Spring nor Summer-beauty has such grace,
As I have seen in an Autumnal face.

Of the latter he says,


In all her words to every hearer fit,
You may at revels, or at council sit.

The rest of her character may be read in his printed poems, in that Elegy which bears the name of "The Autumnal Beauty." For both he and she were then past the meridian of man’s life.’

This is fascinating! I never knew there was a connection between the two. I got into reading both poets around the same time actually. I've read more broadly in Donne with his prose and satire. Someday it'd be cool to get deeper into his works and do some posts on it. Lord willing I'll go through Holy Sonnet X and
A DIALOGUE-ANTHEM in the next day or so!

 

[John Nyberg]

Discipline
“Throw away thy rod,
Throw away thy wrath:
O my God,
Take the gentle path.

For my hearts desire
Unto thine is bent:
I aspire
To a full consent.

Not a word or look
I affect to own,
But by book,
And thy book alone.

Though I fail, I weep:
Though I halt in pace,
Yet I creep
To the throne of grace.

Then let wrath remove;
Love will do the deed:
For with love
Stonie hearts will bleed.

Love is swift of foot;
Love’s a man of warre,
And can shoot,
And can hit from farre.

Who can scape his bow?
That which wrought on thee,
Brought thee low,
Needs must work on me.

Throw away thy rod;
Though man frailties hath,
Thou art God:
Throw away thy wrath.”

 

[philomath]

Discipline
“Throw away thy rod,
Throw away thy wrath:
O my God,
Take the gentle path.

For my hearts desire
Unto thine is bent:
I aspire
To a full consent.

Not a word or look
I affect to own,
But by book,
And thy book alone.

Though I fail, I weep:
Though I halt in pace,
Yet I creep
To the throne of grace.

Then let wrath remove;
Love will do the deed:
For with love
Stonie hearts will bleed.

Love is swift of foot;
Love’s a man of warre,
And can shoot,
And can hit from farre.

Who can scape his bow?
That which wrought on thee,
Brought thee low,
Needs must work on me.

Throw away thy rod;
Though man frailties hath,
Thou art God:
Throw away thy wrath.”

I haven't read this one before, thanks for sharing! It's a beautiful example of the heart of a disciple.

Psalm 30:5
For his anger is but for a moment,
and his favor is for a lifetime.
Weeping may tarry for the night,
but joy comes with the morning.

 

[philomath]

A DIALOGUE-ANTHEM.

CHRISTIAN, DEATH.

Chr.	ALAS, poor Death ! where is thy glory ? Where is thy famous force, thy ancient sting ?
Dea.	Alas, poor mortal, void of story ! Go spell and read how I have killed thy King.
Chr.	Poor Death ! and who was hurt thereby ? Thy curse being laid on Him makes thee accurst.
Dea.	Let losers talk, yet thou shalt die ; These arms shall crush thee.
Chr.	Spare not, do thy worst. I shall be one day better than before ; Thou so much worse, that thou shalt be no more.

Holy Sonnet X: Death, be not proud By John Donne

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

I'm glad to finally be giving my thoughts on these as promised!

In both of these poems, we see the pride and arrogance of death. Herbert's approach has death directly talking to the Christian:

Alas, poor mortal, void of story !
Go spell and read how I have killed thy King.

Let losers talk, yet thou shalt die ;
These arms shall crush thee.

The prideful arrogance of death is clear.

Donne approaches it differently by directly talking to death in first person, saying to death, "You think you have power over me, but you don't".

"Death, be not proud"
"some have called thee mighty and dreadful... thou art not so"
"For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me."
"One short sleep past, we wake eternally And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die."

Both show the hope of Christians in the face of death. With Donne we can say "Death, be not proud." In one accord with Herbert we can say, "Thy curse being laid on Him makes thee accurst."

With these men, all Christians have the hope in Christ that the sting of death is gone and one day it will be no more.