Care for a bit o’poetry?
This is a great accompaniment to The Way posts I’ve been doing (still a few more gestating within, due to burst out of my chest any time now).
My mentor and friend David Roper reminded me of this poem today in one of his musings, this gem from the pen of George Herbert some 400 years ago. You must read it aloud, sporting your best UK accent. I prefer slipping into something more Glaswegian, even though Herbert was from Wales.
What a word to go back to in the midst of the pilgrimage each of us are embarked upon in the whole wide world.
Herbert died in 1633 at the ripe old age of 39. It was said of him, “Herbert speaks to God like one that really believeth a God, and whose business in the world is most with God. Heart-work and heaven-work make up his books.” Ancient mentor to me. Would love to earn that as my own epiptaph. Hard to fit on a tombstone though, I imagine. He was described by another contemporary as a “soul composed of harmonies.” Would love to earn that one too. Would also fit better on the stone.
The Pilgrimage poem was part of a collection of poems published in 1633 entitled The Temple: priestly poems and private ejaculations. Thinking that meant something else then. That phrase actually seems quite fitting coupled (sorry) with priestly poems.
Anyway, read on Macduff…