What mirth and musick mean; what love and wit.
Yet through these labyrinths, not my grovelling wit,
But the silk twist let down from heaven to me,
Did both conduct and teach me, how by it
To climb to thee.
In 1630 he was admitted to the priestly office, and was immediately inducted to the Rectory of Bemerton, near Salisbury. And here it was, stripping from him the gaudy trappings of a fashionable court, he clothed himself in the better and more enduring robes of humility and meekness. It was here, amid the quiet shades of his peaceful parish, he prepared, for his own use and that of his brethren, a brief manual, entitled “The Country Parson”—the rich gatherings of his own experience, and the exemplification of his own ardor in the performance of the duties of the pastoral office. His sermons, delivered while at Bemerton, are practical in doctrine, forcible in illustration, and make directly to the heart. They are just such sermons as we should suppose the author of The Country Parson would preach. They are many of them explanatory of the forms and services of the Church of England, urging their importance and the necessity of their being truly understood.
He usually took his text from the gospel of the day appointed to be read, and did as consistently declare why the Church did appoint that portion of Scripture to be that day read; and he shortly made it appear to them (to use his own words) “that the whole service of the Church was a reasonable, and therefore an acceptable sacrifice to God—as, namely, we begin with confession of ourselves to be vile and miserable sinners; and we begin so because, until we have confessed ourselves to be such, we are not capable of that mercy which we so much need; but having in the prayer of our Lord begged pardon for those sins which we have confessed, and hoping by our public confession and real repentance we have obtained that pardon—then we dare and do proceed to beg of the Lord ‘to open our lips, that our mouth may show forth his praise;’ for till then we are not able and worthy to praise him.”
The church holydays and fasts, and the benefits to be derived from their observance, were most beautifully illustrated in Herbert’s discourses; and we venture to say that in the sermons of no clergyman of the Church of England, or the Episcopal Church of America, can there be found so practical and so beautiful an exemplification of the excellency of the Episcopal Church service. The simple parishioners of Bemerton learned to love the service of their church under the preachings of their sainted pastor, because its practical usefulness, and its adaptation to their every spiritual want, was brought forcibly home to the door of their hearts. The form, they were taught, was as nothing, save as the most fitting vehicle of their wants and spiritual aspirations. In our age, where the cold religion of formality is seen struggling for the mastery over that which is ardent and spiritual; when “the outward and visible sign” seems to be more thought of than “the inward and spiritual grace;” when the outward adornments of the sanctuary are held almost in as high value, and as necessary to salvation, as the inward adornment of the meek and pious spirit, it is refreshing to read such sermons as those of Herbert. He was a formalist only so far as form could be made a means to an end; a means to bring man to a closer contemplation of the love and the abounding mercies of his God; a means through which he could be made to praise him in holiness and truth. The form he looked upon as the fitting vehicle, “the silken twist,” to lead man’s thoughts in fit expression up to the throne of God. The summum bonum, the all in religion, he still believed, and so most earnestly taught, consisted in the free-will offering of the penitent and pious spirit.
In his essay on the duties of the Country Parson, he enjoins upon the pastor, “to be constant in every good work, setting such an example to his flock as they may be glad to follow; and by so doing, profit thereby to their souls’ good.”
And most diligently (if we are to believe the testimony of his contemporaries) did George Herbert conform himself to the character so beautifully sketched. In the functions of his humble office he is said to have led a most pious and blameless life.