A letter from a wise and weary elder,
Who's known the wealth of man and Pharaoh's daughter,
Who spent his life in search of something greater—
A whore before his God unlike his father.
Though I was given Wisdom to discern,
To judge beneath the sun the right and wrong,
And though I heard her voice at ev'ry turn,
And even on my lips would hum her song,
I left her feast to enter folly's door,
And cursed her wine for stolen water's taste;
I saw the end of making me the whore,
Among the dead, with all who are unchaste.
Destruction thus befell me as a storm;
And anguish came upon me evermore.
I made myself a byword for my wives:
My son, I married wives of foreign gods;
With age, my heart grew soft against their lies
And, with these hands, erected all their frauds.
But once I built a temple for my Lord—
A dwelling for the God not made with hands,
Unto the God who gave this king reward
But soon will take the kingdom from my hand.
For enemies arise from ev'ry side;
And, as the gods I built, they cause me grief.
My son, my son, don't cast my words aside;
But let my wisdom help thee find relief:
With all my sin I laid for me a snare;
And now, with ev'ry move, it pulls and tears.
My son, though Wisdom laugh my soul to scorn,
That folly wrought a judgement in my sin,
I have a hope beyond where clouds are borne:
I praise the law and promise once again.
For I have seen my vanity below
And know that I cannot ascend that hill;
But David's Seed shall come and heal our woe—
That true and perfect King to fit the bill.
But, till he come, what duty hath a man
That he should work in wait of kingdom come?
In toil did I seek to understand;
My son, in length of days, I found its sum:
Fear God and hold to his commandments fast;
For he shall judge thy deeds from first to last.