From the beginning, before the world ever was,
I was held on high with his hidden treasures.
He brought me forth from nothing and in
the end I will be withdrawn by the King.
My being flowed from the spheres’ foundation,
which endowed it with form in evident fashion.
The craftsmen’s hands weighed its creation,
so I would be brought to the vaults of the King.
He appeared to reveal what once he concealed,
on the left and on the right as well.
He sent me down the stairway leading
from Siloam’s pool to the groves of the King.
I was formed from dust, though your breath in me burns.
You’ve known this stranger’s thoughts in these lands.
How long, my soul, until you return
and meet with approval before your King?