Wisdom, over din and clamor,
calls her suitors,"Turn aside!
Come! I will requite your ardor
as you will with me abide.
In my bower lie the words, which
jealous kings and augurs lust,
full of increase, fearfully rich,
for my lover held in trust."
"Fear the Lord and you will find me.
Find me, other treasures pale.
Gold will rust, fresh wells draw bloody
ere the righteous foot should fail.
Are you simple? Are you senseless?
My words are the faultless path.
Surfeit Folly reaps in violence -
flee, ere she be stuft with wrath."
"Heed no more the songs of Folly -
perfumed words dig open graves.
Blood, her milk, and dust her honey,
all her appetites enslave.
Better crust of bread and water
than the wine of Folly's press.
Better still the yearling slaughter
humbly offered, meet to bless."
"Turn aside! My feast is ready
if you would be satisfied,
filled with Truth, of Prudence heady,
in fair Counsel edified.
Ere the dawn of all creation
I have dwelt as God's delight!
Heed my gracious invitation -
seize on Life and dwell in Light."
Wisdom whispers, still and secret,
"Lean not on your own device.
Christ will keep your pilgrim spirit -
let no brazen claim entice.
This is faith: He is your treasure.
Glorify your joyous prize,
chase His steps, fill up His measure,
know Him and be counted wise.