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Moral Song

 Would we attain the happiest State, 
That is design'd us here; 
No Joy a Rapture must create, 
No Grief beget Despair.
No Injury fierce Anger raise, No Honour tempt to Pride; No vain Desires of empty Praise Must in the Soul abide.
No Charms of Youth, or Beauty move The constant, settl'd Breast: Who leaves a Passage free to Love, Shall let in, all the rest.
In such a Heart soft Peace will live, Where none of these abound; The greatest Blessing, Heav'n do's give, Or can on Earth be found.

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
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