On the Felicity of constant Health

Tho' honour with renown and greatest wealth
God's Blessings are, they can't contest with health;
For happiness, which is the root that brings
More pleasure unto Beggars than to Kings;
When fits of Gout, Strangury, or the Stone,
Do all or any of them come alone.
Health makes us eat and drink, and sleep at ease
When wealth creates, but cures not a Disease.
What would not a daily sick rich Man give,
To have a poor Man's health while he does live?
His Plate, his Jewels, with his Bags of Gold,
Will ease no pain, tho' all he has were fold.
Which shews that all Mankind should daily pray
For health, and not by wealth be led astray.
For there's no joy like a contented mind,
Tho' 'tis with poverty and health confin'd.