George Herbert’s ‘Easter’ begins with a burst of joy: the speaker urges his own heart to rise and sing because Christ has risen. There’s a tender logic here — Christ takes him by the hand so he too can ascend. Christ’s death burned him to dust, but the resurrection can refine that dust into gold, restoring and justifying him. The feeling is intimate gratitude and renewed hope.
Then the speaker wakes his lute, asking it to join the praise with all its skill. The cross itself becomes a teacher: the wood of the cross taught all wood to echo Christ’s name, and the stretching of Christ’s sinews on it taught strings the right key for this holy day. Finally, heart and lute must play together, weaving a song; but if music is only two parts multiplied, let the Holy Spirit supply a third part and perfect their efforts. The mood is both festive and deeply personal, blending earthy music with divine mystery.