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.