He that is not handsome at 20, nor strong at 30, nor rich at 40

George Herbert, the poet-preacher of the seventeenth century, whose words were crafted with the weight of both scripture and human truth, once wrote: “He that is not handsome at 20, nor strong at 30, nor rich at 40, nor wise at 50, will never be handsome, strong, rich or wise.” At first hearing, these words seem stern, almost harsh, yet they are born not of cruelty but of realism. Herbert was a man who believed in the order of life, that every season has its appointed task, and that to neglect it is to forfeit what might have been.

When he speaks of being handsome at 20, he does not mean beauty alone in the shallow sense. Rather, he points to the natural vitality of youth—the freshness, the vigor, the charm of one still at the dawn of life. If a young man or woman cannot carry even a measure of grace and self-presentation in their youth, when nature gives it most freely, they will rarely gain it later. Youth is the season of promise, of outward bloom, and Herbert reminds us not to squander it.

When he turns to being strong at 30, he directs us to the season of labor and endurance. The third decade of life is the time for work, for building, for striving, when the body is still powerful and the mind sharp with energy. To waste this strength in idleness or dissipation is to waste the foundation upon which the future is built. A person who has not learned discipline, endurance, and courage by thirty will find it difficult to summon them when age begins to weigh upon the body.

The call to be rich at 40 is not merely about money, but about stability, provision, and responsibility. By the fourth decade, life has pressed upon a man or woman the need to provide for themselves, for their families, for their communities. Richness here means fruitfulness, not hoarding: the ability to give, to sustain, to hold steady in the storms of life. Herbert warns that if, by forty, one has not cultivated diligence and prudence enough to stand on firm ground, they may forever wander in want.

But the crowning point is wisdom at 50. For this is the age when youthful beauty has faded, when strength begins to wane, when even wealth cannot satisfy the deeper longings of the soul. At fifty, one must have gathered wisdom: the ripened fruit of experience, reflection, and humility. If one has not learned by this age to live with wisdom, to discern what is worth pursuing and what must be left aside, then Herbert declares they never will. For wisdom is the harvest of all the years that came before.

History gives us many who prove his words. Consider Benjamin Franklin, who in his youth pursued wit and charm, in his middle years built strength and wealth through tireless work, and in his later years became a sage whose wisdom shaped a nation. His life was a progression of the very stages Herbert describes. On the other hand, how many squander youth in folly, strength in idleness, wealth in waste, and enter age empty, bitter, and unwise! Herbert’s warning is not for judgment’s sake, but to rouse us from such slumber before it is too late.

The deeper meaning of Herbert’s saying is that life must be lived with intention. Every season is a gift, but also a responsibility. If you neglect the gifts of youth, you weaken the foundation of maturity. If you waste the power of strength, you rob yourself of security. If you forsake wisdom, you strip age of its crown. The seasons of life build upon one another, and to ignore them is to unravel the fabric of destiny.

The lesson for us is clear: embrace each stage of life with seriousness and joy. In youth, cultivate beauty not only of face but of character. In early manhood or womanhood, build strength of body and spirit. In maturity, strive for fruitfulness and provision. In age, seek wisdom above all. For he who honors the seasons shall find himself handsome, strong, rich, and wise in the truest sense, crowned not only by men but by the eternal hand of God.