Oh Lord of Hosts- I ask too many things!
I wish for most of ev’ry great idea-
I ask for wisdom’s song, it ever sings!
I ask for death of wrong- for Glory dear!
Unveil the horrid mask- that thwarts my quest!
‘Tis this alone I ask- the greatest gold-
I wish to know what goal is ever best-
‘Tis wisdom, though- to know the highest gold!
I pine for her- the answerer sublime!
She is the cure of ignorance and fool-
She’ll tell me what to seek, beyond all time-
For her, I do beseech, the grandest tool!
Yet wisdom on her own is not fulfilled-
Give Righteous will its throne, and ill is killed!
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written March 4, 2007