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.

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