WISDOM.
The fear of the Lord that is wisdom.—Job, xxviii. 28.
So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.—Psalm xc. 12.
Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom.—Proverbs, iv. 7.
How much better is it to get wisdom than gold.—Proverbs, xvi. 16.
If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not: and it shall be given him.—James, i. 5.
The wise, I here observe,
Are wise towards God, in whose great service still,
More than in that of kings, themselves they serve.
Sir W. Davenant.
He that is of reason’s skill bereft,
And wants the staff of wisdom him to stay,
Is like a ship in midst of tempest left,
Withouten helm or pilot her to sway;
Full sad and dreadful is that ship’s event:
So is the man that wants intendiment.
Spenser.
Wisdom, the antidote of sad despair,
Makes sharp afflictions seem not as they are,
Through patient sufferance; and doth apprehend,
Not as they seeming are, but as they end.
Francis Quarles.
Wisdom’s self
Oft seeks so sweet, retired solitude;
Where, with her best nurse—contemplation—
She plumes her feathers, and lets go her wings,
That in the various bustle of resort
Were all too muffled, and sometimes impaired.
Milton.
All is best, though we oft doubt
What the unsearchable dispose
Of highest wisdom brings about;
And ever best found in the close.
Milton.
So teach us, Lord, to count our days,
And eye their constant race,
To measure what we want in time,
By wisdom and by grace.
Christopher Pitt.
Wisdom smiles when humble mortals weep.
When sorrow wounds the breast, as ploughs the glebe,
And hearts obdurate feel the softening shower,
Her seeds celestial then glad wisdom sows,
Her golden harvest triumphs in the soil.
Young.
The weak have remedies, the wise have joys:
Superior wisdom is superior bliss.
Young.
When knowledge, at her Father’s dread command,
Resigned to Israel’s king her golden key,
O, to have joined the frequent auditors
In wonder and delight, that whilom heard
Great Solomon descanting on the brutes;
O, how sublimely glorious to apply
To God’s own honour, and good-will to man,
That wisdom he alone, of man, possessed
In plenitude so rich, and cope so rare.
Smart.
Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one,
Have oft-times no connexion, knowledge dwells
In heads replete with thoughts of other men;
Wisdom in minds attentive to their own.
Knowledge, a rude unprofitable mass,
The mere materials with which wisdom builds,
Till smooth’d and squared, and fitted to its place,
Does but encumber whom it seems t’ enrich.
Knowledge is proud that he has learn’d so much,
Wisdom is humble that he knows no more.
Cowper.
Thus wisdom’s words discover
Thy glory and Thy grace,
Thou everlasting Lover
Of our unworthy race!
Thy gracious eye surveyed us
Ere stars were seen above;
In wisdom Thou hast made us,
And died for us in love.
Cowper.
When did wisdom covet length of days?
Or seek its bliss in pleasure, wealth, or praise?
No:—wisdom views with an indifferent eye
All finite things, as blessings born to die.
Hannah More.
Wisdom is humble, said the voice of God,
’Tis proud, the world replied. Wisdom, said God,
Forgives, forbears, and suffers, not for fear
Of man, but God. Wisdom revenges, said
The world; is quick and deadly of resentment,
Thrusts at the very shadow of affront,
And hastes, by death, to wipe its honour clean.
Wisdom, said God, loves enemies, entreats,
Solicits, begs for peace. Wisdom, replied,
The world, hates enemies, will not ask peace,
Conditions spurns, and triumphs in their fall.
Wisdom mistrusts itself, and leans on Heaven,
Said God. It trusts and leans upon itself,
The world replied. Wisdom retires, said God,
And counts it bravery to bear reproach,
And shame, and lowly poverty, upright;
And weeps with all who have just cause to weep.
Wisdom, replied the world, struts forth to gaze,
Treads the broad stage with clamorous foot,
Attracts all praises, counts it bravery
Alone to wield the sword, and rush on death;
And never weeps, but for its own disgrace.
Wisdom, said God, is highest, when it stoops
Lowest before the Holy Throne; throws down
Its crown, abased; forgets itself, admires,
And breathes adoring praise. There wisdom stoops
Indeed, the world replied; there stoops, because
It must, but stoops with dignity; and thinks
And meditates, the while, of inward worth.
Pollok.
Come to my aid, celestial Wisdom, come;
From my dark soul dispel the doubtful gloom;
My passions still, my purer breast inflame,
To sing that God from whom existence came.
Boyse.
See! full of hope, thou trustest to the earth
The golden seed, and waitest till the Spring
Summons the buried to a happier birth;
But, in Time’s furrow duly scattering,
Think’st thou how deeds, by wisdom sown, may be
Silently ripen’d for eternity?
Schiller.
Up! ’tis no dreaming time! Awake! Awake!
For He who sits on the high Judge’s seat,
Doth in His record mark each wasted hour,
Each idle word. Take heed thy shrinking soul
Find not their weight too heavy, when it stands
At that dread bar from whence is no appeal.
Lo, while ye trifle, the light sand steals on,
Leaving the hour-glass empty, and thy life
Glideth away;—stamp wisdom on its hours.
Mrs. Sigourney.
Few and precious are the words which the lips of wisdom utter;
To what shall their rarity be likened? what price shall count their worth?
Perfect and much to be desired, and giving joy with riches,
No lovely thing on earth can picture all their beauty.
They be chance pearls, flung among the rocks by the sullen waters of oblivion,
Which diligence loveth to gather, and hang round the neck of memory;
They be white-winged seeds of happiness, wafted from the islands of the blessed,
Which thought carefully tendeth, in the kindly garden of the heart;
They be sproutings of an harvest for eternity, bursting through the tilth of time,
Green promise of the golden wheat, that yieldeth angel’s food;
They be drops of the crystal dew, which the wings of seraphs scatter,
When on some brighter sabbath, their plumes quiver most with delight:
Such, and so precious, are the words which the lips of wisdom utter.
Martin F. Tupper.
Faith and hope
Will teach me how to bear my lot!
To think Almighty Wisdom best,
To bow my head, and murmur not.
The chast’ning hand of One above
Falls heavy, but I kiss the rod,
He gives the wound, and I must trust
Its healing to the self-same God.
Eliza Cook.