My happiness lies at Wisdom’s feet;
She covers me with what she weaves;
She plants her trees where they will flourish
And in her garden I flourish too.
My happiness is hidden from
The way of fools who will uproot
The joy and peace of those who sit
Within their fading, foolish throne.
My happiness lies at His feet
Who bore the nails and took my shame,
Who took this poor fool to His heart
And gave me wisdom in His name.
The Consolations of Writing 