of parks and gardens, and his three thousand Proverbs, and his Songs a thousand and five; and his speech of beasts and of birds and of all plants, from the cedar in Lebanon to the hyssop which groweth on the wall.  He would know everything, and try everything.  If he was luxurious and proud, he would be no idler, no useless gay liver.  He would work, and discern, and know,—­and at last he found it all out, and this was the sum thereof—­’Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher; all is vanity.’

He found no rest in pleasure, riches, power, glory, wisdom itself; he had learnt nothing more after all than he might have known, and doubtless did know, when he was a child of seven years old.  And that was, simply to fear God and keep His commandments; for that was the whole duty of man.

But though he knew it, he had lost the power of doing it; and he ended darkly and shamefully, a dotard worshipping idols of wood and stone, among his heathen queens.  And thus, as in David the height of chivalry fell to the deepest baseness; so in Solomon the height of wisdom fell to the deepest folly.

My friends, the truth is, that exceeding gifts from God like Solomon’s are not blessings, they are duties; and very solemn and heavy duties.  They do not increase a man’s happiness; they only increase his responsibility—­the awful account which he must give at last of the talents committed to his charge.  They increase, too, his danger.  They increase the chance of his having his head turned to pride and pleasure, and falling shamefully, and coming to a miserable end.  As with David, so with Solomon.  Man is nothing, and God is all in all.

And as with David and Solomon, so with many a king and many a great man.  Consider those who have been great and glorious in their day.  And in how many cases they have ended sadly!  The burden of glory has been too heavy for them to bear; they have broken down under it.

The great Charles the Fifth, Emperor of Germany and King of Spain and all the Indies:  our own great Queen Elizabeth, who found England all but ruined, and left her strong and rich, glorious and terrible:  Lord Bacon, the wisest of all mortal men since the time of Solomon:  and, in our own fathers’ time, Napoleon Buonaparte, the poor young officer, who rose to be the conqueror of half Europe, and literally the king of kings,—­how have they all ended?  In sadness and darkness, vanity and vexation of spirit.

Oh, my friends! if ever proud and ambitious thoughts arise in any of our hearts, let us crush them down till we can say with David:  ’Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty; neither do I exercise myself in great matters, or in things too high for me.

’Surely I have behaved and quieted myself, as a child that is weaned of his mother; my soul is even as a weaned child.’

And if ever idle and luxurious thoughts arise in our hearts, and we are tempted to say, ’Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry;’ let us hear the word of the Lord crying against us:  ’Thou fool!  This night shall thy soul be required of thee.  Then whose shall those things be which thou hast provided?’