Love III

Contributed by Stephen Wickman, St. Thomas Episcopal, McLean 

We had finished rehearsing the anthem for Palm Sunday, “Love Bade Me Welcome,” when the diminutive and pleasant soprano sitting next to me turned and whispered: “I really hate this piece.” I said: “Not the music, right? It’s great. You must not like George Herbert.” She nodded. 

George does not fit everyone’s taste. As the Poetry Foundation tells it (George Herbert | The Poetry Foundation) the Anglican clergyman is “nestled” squarely (or maybe roundly) in the age of Shakespeare and Milton, though his poetry would have later influence on the likes of Coleridge, Emerson, Dickinson, Hopkins, Eliot, Auden, Bishop, Anthony Hecht, and, “perhaps Robert Frost—although these later poets are more abstract in their devotion to Herbert than were his 17th-century followers.”  They attribute much of Herbert’s early popularity—there were at least 11 editions of his major work, published ironically, after he died—to the carefully crafted persona of “holy Mr. Herbert” put forth by his custodians. 

The most famous musical setting of this poem — the last in the compilation known as The Temple — is by Ralph Vaugh Williams (https://youtu.be/JcmkXuZyRz8). We sang an even more modern setting last Sunday, and I don’t know about you, but in this Passover/Easter/Ramadan season, the last line packs a wallop, especially for Episcopalians like me. It is so difficult for modern folks to understand, that the Poetry Foundation has even included a guide! Love (III) | The Poetry Foundation. Here is the poem. 

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 lack’d anything. 

‘A guest,’ I answer’d, ‘worthy to be here:’ 

   Love said, ‘You shall be he.’ 

‘I, the unkind, 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 marr’d 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. 

Here’s some of what the “guide” says about it, ending with one of my favorite words, “ambivalence.” 

The poem’s last line, “So I did sit and eat,” seems unequivocal: Herbert has found his place at God’s table. Herbert’s almost interchangeable use of “Love” for “Lord” in this poem is worth noticing: “Love (III)” is the ultimate poem in a triptych on the subject. The earlier poems attempt to reclaim the term “love,” which has been sullied by secular usage. “Love (I)” opens by praising “Immortal Love, author of this great frame,” and mourning that “mortal love doth all the title gain”; “Love (II)” also addresses itself to “Love,” distinguishing between God’s “Immortal Heat” and the “usurping lust” we mortal humans mistakenly call love. As the culminating poem in the series, “Love (III)” seems to firmly settle which kind of “Love” Herbert intends to celebrate. But the poem also purports to show how God is Love—through its emphasis on God’s role as host. 

Herbert’s portrait of God-as-Love has long been admired as the crowning achievement of The Temple. The philosopher Simone Weil famously had a religious experience as she recited “Love (III): “Often, at the culminating point of a violent headache,” she wrote in her Spiritual Autobiography. “I make myself say it over, concentrating all my attention upon it and clinging with all my soul to the tenderness it enshrines… It was during one of these recitations that, as I told you, Christ himself came down and took possession of me.” Yet despite the “tenderness” Weil noted, much of the poem remains equivocal, even stubbornly so. A reader looking for a tidy—or happy—ending to Herbert’s project might end up troubled by the poem’s surprising and insistent ambivalences. 

This blog post is the expressed opinion of its writer and does not necessarily reflect the views of Tysons Interfaith or its members.