University of Virginia Library

BIBLE SONNETS.

—SOLOMON.

SOLOMON'S REQUEST.

“Ask what thou wilt and I will give it thee.”
“Lord, give me wisdom!” was the rare reply,
Rising more grateful to the silent sky
Than smoke of thousand holocausts could be.
Then fell a voice—“Since thou hast asked of me
The crown and queen of blessings, wisdom high,
Not riches, or long life, or victory,
Wisdom is thine; and thou shalt also see
Life, riches, honour following in her train.”
So still the greater comprehends the less:
Celestial wisdom is earth's truest gain:
Wisdom is grace; Lord, let thy grace be given,
And happiness my mortal days shall bless,
And light my footsteps to the gates of heaven.

SOLOMON'S WISDOM.

Not only for high uses which belong
To kings, or private solace of his mind,
Or delectation of all human kind
With thoughtful proverb and with holy song,
Was wisdom giv'n; but that the goodly throng
Of creatures might a royal scholar find—
Beasts, reptiles, fish, birds borne on wave or wind,
And plants from hyssop frail to cedar strong.
May I in God's least works high purpose see,
And with intelligent observance greet
Each careless bird that flits from tree to tree,
Each thriftless flower that sheds its incense sweet
About my path. Thus be it given to me
To find true wisdom scattered at my feet.

SOLOMON'S TEMPLE.

Bright as a vision, silent as a thought,
Slowly ascending cloud-like to the skies,
Drawn heavenwards by soft warblings faintly caught
From lips angelic, see yon temple rise—
God's glorious house of prayer and sacrifice—
Gold, marble, cedar curiously wrought,
The fair creation of that monarch wise
Whose mind capacious was divinely taught.
A grander temple now, unseen, is growing,
The bright and undecaying home of Grace,
Its living stones from every country flowing
And from all time. Oh! when that temple holy
Appears in perfect beauty, may a place
Be found for me and for my service lowly!

SOLOMON'S GLORY.

Seated upon a throne superb and high
Of ivory, with finest gold inlaid—
Crowned with a blaze of jewels, and arrayed
In robes magnificent of Tyrian dye,
The king “in all his glory” strikes the eye
With wonder—from amidst luxurious shade
Of purple canopy, and proud parade
Of couchant lions keeping watch hard by.
But all that royal pomp the palm must yield,
In texture rare and beauty of array,
To roses wild and lilies of the field,
Which bloom and perish in a single day:
Lord, if the flowers are decked in robes so fair,
What clothing shall Thy saints in glory wear?