Category Archives: Poetry

The Agony – by George Herbert


Philosophers have measured mountains,
Fathom’d the depths of seas, of states, and kings,
Walk’d with a staff to heaven, and traced fountains
But there are two vast, spacious things,
The which to measure it doth more behove:
Yet few there are that sound them; Sin and Love.

Who would know Sin, let him repair
Unto Mount Olivet; there shall he see
A man, so wrung with pains, that all his hair,
His skin, his garments, bloody be.
Sin is that Press and Vice, which forceth pain
To hunt his cruel food through every vein.

Who knows not Love, let him assay,
And taste that juice, which on the cross a pike
Did set again abroach; then let him say
If ever he did taste the like.
Love is that liquor sweet and most divine,
Which my God feels as blood; but I, as wine.


Across the Fields of Night

I’ll never forget the first time I held my niece,
Katherine Jean.
I’d taken the 1am train from Connecticut to DC.
I arrived in the delivery room less than an hour after she was born.

And my brother immediately put her in my arms.

Cradling this gift of new and promise-filled life.
Gazing into her alert, unfocused eyes,
I found myself shaken –
Taken by overwhelming emotion.
By Love.

In that moment,
That overwhelming wave of Love,
I think I got a glimpse of who God is.
If I, flawed human that I am,
(A mere shadow shadow of the Prodigal’s Father)
Running across the fields of night
To greet my niece for the first time –
If I can feel so much unconditional love
For a child who isn’t even my own,
How much more must God,
In God’s perfection,
Love us.