Years spent in vanity and pride

"Ecclesiastes is a fascinating book because it's written by the wisest man who ever lived who had it all," reasons Reid. "He was a political leader. He was the king over the most important nation on the earth, the nation Israel. He was wealthy beyond man's imagination. He was wise because he was given wisdom by God. He was musically talented; he had men singers and women singers. He wrote over a 1,000 psalms. He recorded proverbs. He had vineyards.

"In other words, take every aspect of human endeavor, whether it's arts, or culture, or finance, or politics, he excelled in all of them. And what did he conclude? Well, life on earth is vanity under the sun. Apart from God, life has no point.

"So what is the whole duty of man? It's simple and it applies to all mankind. 'Fear God and keep His commandments.' Do what God would have you to do. Remember thy creator in the days of thy youth.

"Ecclesiastes is a cautionary tale because the wisest man who lived, who had everything, made his life a mess because he didn't keep the first thing the first thing. He got away from the Word of God. He wasn't reading, studying, obeying the Word and the end result was, 'Vanity of vanities, saith the preacher, all is vanity.' "

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Hymn by Isaac Watt, "Let Him embrace my soul, and prove," based on Song of Solomon:

Let him embrace my soul, and prove

Mine interest in his heav'nly love;
The voice that tells me, "Thou art mine,"
Exceeds the blessings of the vine.

On thee th' anointing Spirit came,
And spreads the savor of thy name;
That oil of gladness and of grace
Draws virgin souls to meet thy face.

Jesus, allure me by thy charms,
My soul shall fly into thine arms!
Our wand'ring feet thy favors bring
To the fair chambers of the King.

[Wonder and pleasure tune our voice
To speak thy praises and our joys;
Our memory keeps this love of thine
Beyond the taste of richest wine.]

Though in ourselves deformed we are,
And black as Kedar's tents appear,
Yet, when we put thy beauties on,
Fair as the courts of Solomon.

[While at his table sits the King,
He loves to see us smile and sing;
Our graces are our best perfume,
And breathe like spikenard round the room.]

As myrrh new bleeding from the tree,
Such is a dying Christ to ine
And while he makes my soul his guest,
My bosom, Lord, shall be thy rest.

[No beams of cedar or of fir
Can with thy courts on earth compare;
And here we wait, until thy love
Raise us to nobler seats above.]