All Wisdom's ways are smooth and fair,
No treasures can with hers compare;
More precious than the ruby bright,
She leads to honour and delight.
Seek her, and she is quickly found,
With never-fading olives crown'd.
Riches may fly within an hour,
Pale sickness wither beauty's flower,
Death may our dearest friendships sever,
And rend the social tie for ever;
Ah! what but Wisdom then remains,
To cheer the heart beneath its pains!
To bid each murmuring thought arise,
And soar with rapture to the skies.
She calms the passions of the breast,
With soothing hopes of future rest;
And like a minister of heaven,
She tells us "mortals are forgiven."
Then Ophir's gold to her is nought,
Nor polished silver finely wrought;
Nor all the jewels of the mine,
Compar'd with Wisdom's gem divine.