Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,
      Though foolishly he lost the same,
            Decaying more and more,
                  Till he became
                        Most poore:
                        With thee
                  O let me rise
            As larks, harmoniously,
      And sing this day thy victories:
Then shall the fall further the flight in me.

My tender age in sorrow did beginne
      And still with sicknesses and shame.
            Thou didst so punish sinne,
                  That I became
                        Most thinne.
                        With thee
                  Let me combine,
            And feel thy victorie:
         For, if I imp my wing on thine,
Affliction shall advance the flight in me.

Corinna Laughlin's commentary:

For this Easter week, I’ve chosen a classic—“Easter Wings” by the 17th-century poet George Herbert. Parishioner Scott Webster will read the poem, then I’ll be back to offer a brief commentary.
 
George Herbert was born in Wales in 1593. He was a superb scholar, and poems by him survive not only in English but in Latin and Greek! He had a brilliant academic career at Cambridge, holding significant posts at a very young age, and then went into Parliament. In 1629, at the age of 36, for a variety of reasons, he changed course. He sought ordination in the Anglican Church, and became rector at the tiny country church of Fugglestone St. Peter in Bemerton, England. It was here that Herbert wrote “Easter Wings,” part of a collection of poems called The Temple. His time as a country parson was brief—he died of tuberculosis in 1633, at the age of 39.
 
Herbert was one of the “metaphysical poets,” along with poets like John Donne and Andrew Marvell. Some of the characteristics of metaphysical poetry are evident in “Easter Wings.” There’s an intricacy to the meter and rhyme, and a strong central image or “conceit”: in this case, wings! Herbert uses images of rising and falling, flying and sinking. When you look at the printed text, you can see that wings isn’t just a dominant image—it’s the shape of the poem itself!
 
Why wings at Easter? In the first stanza, Herbert talks about the creation story – how God gave Adam (and Eve) everything, “though foolishly he lost the same,” becoming “most poor.” But, Herbert says, if we rise with Christ, that first fall will only “further the flight in me.”
 
The second stanza echoes that pattern, speaking this time not of Adam’s fall, but of his own. But, he says, addressing Christ, “if I imp my wing on thine, Affliction shall advance the flight in me.” “Imp” is a term from the art of falconry, and refers to repairing a damaged wing with feathers from a healthy one. In other words, sin is like a broken wing, preventing us from soaring--but through our Easter union with Christ, we can fly with his wings—we can rise.
 
Herbert’s poem is a very clever illustration of the Christian idea of the “felix culpa,” the “happy fault.” This is a phrase from the Easter proclamation, the Exsultet, which Father Ryan sang at the Easter Vigil. “O happy fault, O necessary sin of Adam, which gained for us so great a Redeemer.” Had Adam and Eve not eaten the fruit, there would have been no need for Christ’s redeeming action. God turns the fall into a blessing – giving us wings to rise all the way to him. Happy Easter!