“Death” by George Herbert

Occasionally, I post a poem that I admire. Recently, I closed my sermon on Luke 20:27-40, by quoting George Herbert’s short poem “Death” to demonstrate how the Christian hope transforms the dark pallor of death into the sanguine hope of resurrection. Herbert, who lived from 1593-1633, lived in the age of Shakespeare, and throughout the centuries, he’s had a profound influence on poets and writers of the likes of Ralph Waldo Emerson, T.S. Eliot, Robert Frost, and many others. What’s makes Herbert’s poetry particularly brilliant and of interest to pastors, theologians, and Christians of every kind is his keen spiritual insight, displayed in plain and heartfelt language. (despite the King Jamesie vernacular of the day!) His poetry is truly a gift to the church.

Here it is:

DEATH

“Death, thou wast once an uncouth hideous thing,
                   Nothing but bones,
           The sad effect of sadder grones;
Thy mouth was open, but thou couldst not sing.

For we consider'd thee as at some six
                    Or ten yeares hence,
             After the losse of life and sense,
Flesh being turn't to dust, and bones to sticks.

We lookt on this side of thee, shooting short;
                    Where we did finde
    The shells of fledge souls left behinde,
Dry dust, which sheds no tears, but may extort.

But since our Saviours death did put some bloud
                     Into thy face;
             Thou art grown fair and full of grace,
Much in request, much sought for as a good.

For we do now behold thee gay and glad,
                  As at dooms-day;
    When souls shall wear their new aray,
And all thy bones with beautie shall be clad.

Therefore we can go die as sleep, and trust
                   Half that we have
         Unto an honest faithfull grave;
Making our pillows either down, or dust.”