Having been tenant long to a rich
     lord,
    Not thriving, I resolved to be
    bold,
And make a suit unto him, to
    afford
A new small-rented lease, and
    cancel th’ old.
In heaven at his manor I him
    sought;
    They told me there that he was
        lately gone
    About some land, which he had
       dearly bought
Long since on earth, to take
       possession.
I straight returned, and knowing
      his great birth,
      Sought him accordingly in
          great resorts;
      In cities, theatres, gardens,
          parks, and courts;
At length I heard a ragged noise
     and mirth
     Of thieves and murderers; there
        I him espied,
     Who straight, Your suit is
         granted, said, and died.

THIS poem is one of Herbert’s most masterly, the abrupt end leaving the reader with a sense of astonishment. Unlike most of Herbert’s poems, which have a strong confessional element, this one is quite objective. It is not about what the poet is feeling or thinking, but simply tells a story. In some ways, it is like the parables told by Jesus. For it is a story about everyday life with a deeper meaning, and one that at the end poses a challenge to the hearer or listener about where they stand in relation to that deeper meaning.

The poem, in sonnet form, appeared in W [the first collection of Herbert’s poems, put together in 1618 when he was at Cambridge], and then in the final version with one change. The lines

Sought him accordingly in great
    resorts;
In cities, theatres, gardens, parks,
    and courts”

originally appeared as:

    Sought him in cities, theatres,
resorts,
   In grottoes, gardens, palaces and
       courts,

which is much less musical.

HERBERT also changed the title from “Passion” to the less explicit “Redemption”; for he liked his poetry to be suggestive rather than dogmatic. Also, the word “redemption” has legal overtones, sometimes connected to land, which fits the imagery. A piece of land might have run up debts and then been redeemed when those debts were paid off.

The scene would have been all too familiar to people in the early 17th century. Most land was in the hands of big landowners. The majority of the population were agricultural labourers. But there was also a significant minority who were tenant farmers. Some had only a few acres, some much more, but all were characterised by being totally in the power of the rich lord, who had the power to evict or change the rent.

One tenant who was “not thriving”, perhaps because the land was poor, resolved to plead with the landowner for a lease on a different farm that he could make pay. Not finding the lord at his manor house, he searched for him where the rich and powerful were usually to be found. Then he heard the sound of a street brawl or pub fight and found the lord on the point of dying, “Who straight, ‘Your suit is granted,’ said, and died.”

THERE are clues in the story to its deeper meaning. First, the lord had gone not just to buy any old land but one on “earth” and one “which he had dearly bought long since”. It brings to mind Revelation 13.8, with its reference to “the Lamb who was slain from the creation of the world” (NIV). Then the fact that the lord was not to be found among the wealthy has as background the early Christian hymn in Philippians 2.6-8, in which Christ:

who, though he was in the form of
    God,
    did not regard equality with
       God
    as something to be exploited,
but emptied himself,
    taking the form of a slave,
    being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form,
    he humbled himself
    and became obedient to the
        point of death —
    even death on a cross.

Then, of course, the reference to “thieves and murderers” is a vivid reminder that Christ was crucified between two criminals. The tenant farmer sought a new farm because he was “not thriving”, and he wanted the old lease cancelled. It has been suggested that we have here a reference to the new realm of grace replacing the old realm of the law, which was so central to the apostle Paul’s understanding of the Christian faith. But the “not thriving” may go wider than that, to refer to our whole human nature. In the end, the suit that is granted is our new nature, which in Christ can indeed thrive and flourish.

HOW does the death of the rich lord bring this about? Over time, the Church has come up with a number of different pictures in answer to that question, and part of the power of the poem is that it leaves the reader to ponder it themselves. Whatever answer we may come up with, the astonishing fact is that the Eternal Son of God came all the way to meet us, even when it meant meeting human hostility.

R. S. Thomas, the Welsh priest and poet, wrote an introduction to a selection of Herbert’s poems (A Choice of George Herbert’s Verse, Faber & Faber, 1967, edited by Thomas). I think he must have been influenced by this poem in the writing of his own poem “The Coming”. This pictures God showing the Son a globe, and they peer at it until they see a figure on a cross. “Let me go there, he said.”

The Rt Revd Lord Harries of Pentregarth is a former Bishop of Oxford. This is an edited extract from his book Wounded I Sing: From Advent to Christmas with George Herbert, published by SPCK Publishing at £10.99 (Church Times Bookshop £8.79); 978-0-281-08942-0. He reviews David Brown’s book Gospel as Work of Art, here