Saturday Rave: Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell? by George Herbert.

 George Herbert, 1593 - 1633, was born in Wales to a wealthy and influential family. He was noticed by King James I and became a Member of Parliament.

And what did the silly man do then? Well, he gave it all up and went and spent the rest of his short life as a clergyman, tending most carefully and lovingly to his parishioners in the village of Fugglestone St Peter.

George Herbert is noted for his religious poetry, works of great strength and tenderness. They're wonderful things, even to those of us with no faith.

Here is a meditation on peace. It isn't be religious at all, unless you want it to be.

Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell? I humbly crave,
Let me once know.
I sought thee in a secret cave,
And ask'd, if Peace were there,
A hollow wind did seem to answer, No:
Go seek elsewhere.

I did; and going did a rainbow note:
Surely, thought I,
This is the lace of Peace's coat:
I will search out the matter.
But while I looked the clouds immediately
Did break and scatter.

Then went I to a garden and did spy
A gallant flower,
The crown-imperial: Sure, said I,
Peace at the root must dwell.
But when I digged, I saw a worm devour
What showed so well.

At length I met a rev'rend good old man;
Whom when for Peace
I did demand, he thus began:
There was a Prince of old
At Salem dwelt, who lived with good increase
Of flock and fold.

He sweetly lived; yet sweetness did not save
His life from foes.
But after death out of his grave
There sprang twelve stalks of wheat;
Which many wond'ring at, got some of those
To plant and set.

It prospered strangely, and did soon disperse
Through all the earth:
For they that taste it do rehearse
That virtue lies therein;
A secret virtue, bringing peace and mirth
By flight of sin.

Take of this grain, which in my garden grows,
And grows for you;
Make bread of it: and that repose
And peace, which ev'ry where
With so much earnestness you do pursue,
Is only there.

 *****

Word To Use Today: peace. This word comes from the Old French word pais, from the Latin pacem which means agreement, peace, tranquility or absence of war. Long ago, it came from a word meaning to fasten, which has also given us the words Pacific, pact, peasant - and patio.