rnest of the joys
of heaven before he possessed them." His worthy biographer, Izaak
Walton, tells us--"His chiefest recreation was music, in which
heavenly art he was a most excellent master, and did himself compose
many divine hymns and anthems, which he set and sung to his Lute or
Viol; and though he was a lover of retiredness, yet his love to music
was such that he went usually twice every week, on certain appointed
days, to the Cathedral Church in Salisbury, and at his return would
say, 'That his time spent in prayer and Cathedral music elevated his
soul, and was his heaven upon earth.' But before his return thence to
Bemerton, he would usually sing and play his part at an appointed
private music meeting; and, to justify this practice, he would often
say, 'Religion does not banish mirth, but only moderates and sets
rules to it.'"

In walking to Salisbury upon one occasion to attend his usual music
meeting, George Herbert saw a poor man with a poor horse that was
fallen under his load. He helped the man to unload and re-load; the
poor man blessed him for it, and he blessed the poor man. Upon
reaching his musical friends at Salisbury they were surprised to see
him so soiled and discomposed; but he told them the occasion, and when
one of the company said to him "He had disparaged himself by so dirty
an employment," his answer was, "That the thought of what he had done
would prove music to him at midnight; and that the omission of it
would have upbraided and made discord in his conscience whenever he
should pass by that place; 'for if I be bound to pray for all that be
in distress, I am sure that I am bound, so far as it is in my power,
to practise what I pray for; and though I do not wish for the like
occasion every day, yet let me tell you, I would not willingly pass
one day of my life without comforting a sad soul, or showing mercy;
and I praise God for this occasion; and now let us tune our
instruments.'"

Herbert's love of imagery was often curious and startling. In singing
of "Easter" he said--

"Awake my lute and struggle for thy part
With all thy heart.
The Cross taught all wood to resound His name,
Who bore the same.
His stretched sinews taught all strings, what key
Is best to celebrate this most high day,
Consort both heart and lute, and twist a song
Pleasant and long:
Or since all music is but three parts vied
And multiplied,