Meter 7

Then did Wisdom follow her wont,
Glee-words chaunted, changed song for speech,
Of tales of sooth sang yet another :
‘ Never on high hill had she ever heard
That any of men might make to.stand
A roof-fast hall ; nor need any hope

To have the wit to mingle wisdom,
To put it together with pride o’erweening.
Heardest thou ever that any of mortals
On hills of sand his house could stablish
Firm to last him ? Nor can any mortal
Build up wisdom, where the hill-side
Is spread with covetise. Quickly the rain
Is sucked by the sand; so do the great ones,

With their bottomless greed of goods and glory.
They drink to the dregs this dross so fleeting,
Yet the thirst of their craving is never cooled.
A man may not build a house on a mountain
That may long tarry ; soon the tempest
Swift on it sweepeth. Sand is useless
In deluge of rain to him that dwelleth
In the house as master ; it melteth away,
In the rain sinketh. So with every man;
His inmost mind is mightily shaken,
Stirred from its station, when the strong winds
Of earthly troubles toss and tease it,
Or when the ruthless rain of affliction,
Boundless distress, dasheth upon it.
But he that ever wisheth to own
True joy eternal must turn and flee
This world’s beauty. Then let him build
The house of his soul so that he find
The Rock of Humility, hard and fastest,
Sure foundation ; he shall not slip
Though that the tempest of worldly troubles
Or flood of worries fiercely assail it.
For in that Vale of the Lowly the Lord Himself
Ever abideth, owneth His Home;

And there too Wisdom in memory waiteth.
A life without sorrow he always leadeth
That chooseth wisdom ; it never changeth,
Since he disdaineth delights of the world,
From every evil utterly free ;
He hopeth in eternity hereafter to come.

Him then everywhere God Almighty
Keepeth always, ever unceasing,
Fast abiding in the blessed joys
Of his own mind, through the Master’s grace,
Though oft the winds of worldly troubles
- Batter and bruise him, or never bating
Cares be fretting, when the fierce gusts
Of worldly blessings blow unkindly,
Though him ever the endless worry
Of earthly fortune sore confound him.’