A Song of Praise for Health

HEalth is a Jewel dropt from Heav'n,
Which Money cannot buy,
The Life of Life, the Bodies Peace,
And pleasant Harmony:
Lord who hath Tun'd my outward Man
To such a lively Frame,
Skrew up my Heart-strings all, to make
Sweet Melody to thy Name.

Whilst Others in God's Prisons lie,
Bound with Afflictions Chains,
I walk at large, secure and free
From Sickness and from Pains:
Their Life is Death, their Language groans,
Their Meat is Juice of Galls;
Their Friends, but strangers; wealth, but want,
Their Houses, Prison-walls.

Their earnest Cries do pierce the Skies,
And shall I silent be?
Lord, was I sick, as I am well,
Thou should'st have heard from me.
The Sick have not more cause to pray,
Than I to praise my King.
Since Nature teaches them to groan,
Let Grace teach me to sing.

I see my Friends, I taste my Meat,
I'm free from my Employ:
But when I do enjoy my God,
Then I my self enjoy.
Lord, who dost set me on my Feet,
Direct me in thy ways:
O Crown thy Gift of Health with Grace,
And turn it to thy Praise.