
Blood and Wine
This song came about from some chance occurrences. The first was at an event in college where a professor happened to read the poem, The Agony, by George Herbert (shown below). I hadn’t previously known of Herbert, but that poem subsequently became a favorite of mine. Next, years later, I was visiting with my cousin who mentioned she was writing a poem a day for several weeks. I was on the lookout for song material and had the idea to make her poetry into a song. From working with her poetry, I then got the idea to do the same thing with this George Herbert poem.
In the beginning, this song came together quickly. I probably finished around 80% within a couple months (it helped having Herbert’s work to start with). Finishing the last 20% was the opposite experience though and took an additional few years (perhaps fitting to the poem’s title!). In particular, a few of the lyrics did not come together for some time.
In making this song, I didn’t want to be appropriating someone else’s work. However, since George Herbert lived 400 years ago and his poetry is in the public domain, I felt good considering this a collaboration across centuries.
The Agony
by George Herbert
Philosophers have measured mountains,
Fathomed the depths of seas, of states, and kings,
Walked with a staff to heav’n, 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 ev’ry 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.
Blood and Wine
I’ve gazed upon the heavens
I’ve fathomed the depths of seas
I’ve watched times of kings
and tasted far fountains
but I’ve found the measure of
better are sin and love
he who knew no wrong
on the mount, the wrong, he would repair
there hung the beloved son
bloodied thorns in his hair
forgiveness, here was its price
being pressed from his life
who has not known love?
come taste and see
if you could ever find the like
or the measure of its deeps
this love, how divine
that to my god is blood but me is wine