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The Wisdom of the Wise Men

By Amos R. Wells

Plodding through the desert, wise men from afar;
Not a soul to guide them, nothing but a star;
Many folk to mock them for their silly care;
"What are stars to follow through the empty air?"

Plodding through the desert, seeking for a King,
Fools of common legend, fancies all a-wing;
There are mighty monarchs in the Eastern lands;
Why pursue another, toiling o'er the sands?

Plodding through the desert, scorning gain and ease,
What is this you carry in your treasuries?
What of royal favour do you hope to gain
With your precious presents and your plodding pain?

Gold is fit donation for a mighty throne,
But the myrrh and incense, who would care to own?
Myrrh--a stern reminder man is for the sod;
Incense, for the worship of a holy God.

Plodding through the desert with this royal gold,
Know you not of Herod, jealous, crafty, bold?
Herod holds the sceptre in a mighty town.
His a cruel temper; he will strike you down.

Plodding through the desert, those sagacious men,
Glimpsing King and kingdom past our mortal ken.
Glory, glory, glory, hid from common eyes;
'Mid the mob of mocksters, they alone were wise.