Yet with great toil all that I can attain by long experience, and

In this solemn saying of William Alexander, we find a lament of the ages, a sigh of the soul, and a wisdom clothed in sorrow. He declares that though one may strive with great toil, bending the back to books and schools, and spending years upon years in the long experience of life, the final harvest of all this labor is but the bitter recognition that knowledge is vain. What is meant here is not that learning is useless, but rather that learning alone cannot shield man from folly, nor guarantee him wisdom. For those who think themselves wise are the very ones who stumble into arrogance, pride, and blindness, while the humble learner, ever aware of his limits, walks more surely in the light.

Consider, my child, the restless philosophers of old. They measured the stars, they traced the courses of the heavens, and they sought to unravel the mysteries of man’s soul. Yet in the end, the wisest among them—Socrates himself—confessed that he knew nothing. His greatness lay not in the vastness of his knowledge, but in the humility of recognizing its limits. This is the very heart of Alexander’s words: the learned who puff themselves up in pride are revealed to be fools, but those who tremble before the abyss of the unknown are granted the first taste of true wisdom.

Think also on the tale of Sir Isaac Newton. When praised for his discoveries, which unveiled the secrets of light, motion, and gravitation, he likened himself not to a conqueror of knowledge but to a boy playing on the seashore. He had gathered a few pretty shells, he said, while the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before him. This humility in the face of infinity is the mark of a true sage, not the arrogance of the one who claims to have mastered all.

History too is filled with examples of those undone by their false wisdom. Kings who thought themselves invincible perished by their own hubris; nations that trusted too much in their cleverness fell to ruin. Recall the Tower of Babel, when men, drunk with their knowledge, sought to reach the heavens themselves. Their speech was confounded, their work undone, and they became a parable for all time. Thus, the very ones who boasted of their wisdom became the greatest fools.

And yet, this is not a counsel of despair. Alexander’s words are no call to abandon learning, but to temper it with humility. Knowledge is a noble pursuit, but it must be yoked with reverence, with awe, and with a heart open to correction. Let us learn, let us study, but let us never say in our hearts, “I have become wise.” For that moment of boasting is the seed of ruin. Better to say, “I am ever a learner, a seeker, a pilgrim upon the endless road of truth.”

The lesson for you, O listener, is this: Do not despise the schools, nor the books, nor the teachings of the elders. But guard your soul against pride. Knowledge without humility breeds folly; knowledge with humility becomes wisdom. Take care that you do not measure your worth by how much you know, but by how much good you do with what you know. Knowledge is a tool, not a crown.

Practical steps may guide you: when you learn a new truth, ask yourself not only, “What does this mean for me?” but also, “How may I serve others with it?” When praised for your learning, answer not with pride but with gratitude and acknowledgment of those who taught you. And when you are tempted to scorn the unlearned, remember that the wisest men of all confessed their ignorance before the great mysteries.

So, hold fast to learning, but wear it lightly. Pursue wisdom, but walk humbly. And above all, remember that the fool thinks himself wise, but the wise man knows himself a fool. This is the treasure of ages, the crown of humility, and the path that leads not to vanity, but to true greatness.