HOME • VISITORS CENTER • SERMON • MONDAYS WITH MARTIN
MUSIC MINISTRY • CHRISTIAN EDUCATION • YOUTH • STAFF • STEWARDSHIP • DEACONS

PRE-SCHOOL • DIRECTIONS

Mondays with Martin – March 8, 2010

Back in seminary, my most challenging professor had a favorite: George Herbert.  Herbert was not the fellow that sat ahead of me in class who answered every question posed by the prolific professor, but, instead, was a Welsh poet, Anglican priest who lived in the 17th century.  The professor loved his work and shared it with me.  I must confess, at twenty three years of age, the poetry went right over my head.  Now, as I’ve aged, (I’m about the age now as my professor was then…whom I thought was ancient) I’ve come to regard some of Herbert’s work as singularly instructive to the heart and soul of the Christian. 

 

Below, I’ve reprinted one of my favorites; one that is most appropriate for this Lenten season:  “The Bunch of Grapes.”

 

Joy, I did lock thee up: but some bad man

                            Hath let thee out again:

And now, me thinks, I am where I began

        Sev’n yeares ago: one vogue and vein,

        One aire of thoughts usurps my brain

I did towards Canaan draw; but now I am

Brought back to the Red sea, the sea of shame.

 

For as the Jews of old by Gods command

                            Travell’d, and saw no town;

So now each Christian hath his journeys spann’d:

        Their storie pennes and sets us down.

        A single deed is small renown.

Gods works are wide, and let in future times;

His ancient justice overflows our crimes.

 

Then have we too our guardian fires and clouds;

                            Our Scripture-dew drops fast:

We have our sands and serpents, tents and shrowds;

        Alas! our murmurings come not last.

        But where’s the cluster?  where’s the taste

Of mine inheritance?  Lord, if I must borrow,

Let me as well take up their joy, as sorrow.

 

But can he want the grape, who hath the wine?

                            I have their fruit and more.

Blessed be God, who prosper’d Noahs vine,

        And made it bring forth grapes good store.

        But much more him I must adore,

Who of the Laws sowre juice sweet wine did make,

Ev’n God himself being pressed for my sake.

 

God himself pressed for our sakes …

-mra