For centuries, there were people who believed that somewhere in the mysteries of nature there was a formula for turning ordinary metal into gold. They called it chrysopoeia. Alchemists devoted their lives to it. They built furnaces. They heated metals. They mixed mercury and sulfur and salts. They studied manuscripts handed down from generations before them. They experimented with temperatures and proportions and combinations. And behind all of it was one persistent conviction: There has to be a formula. Somewhere there must be a missing ingredient. Something they hadn’t tried. Some proportion they hadn’t gotten quite right. Some secret that, once discovered, would transform something common and heavy into something valuable.
Not to brag, but I think I found the secret:
My fruit is better than gold, yes, than fine gold, And My revenue than choice silver.
How much better to get wisdom than gold! And to get understanding is to be chosen rather than silver.
More to be desired are they than gold, Yea, than much fine gold; Sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb.
This discovery has brought me something gold can’t buy. Give it some thought.
Gary