Songs VII and IX
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, 
Screw up my Heart-strings all, to make 
    Sweet Melody to thy Name,

Whilst others in God's Prisons lie, 
    Bound with Affliction's 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, were 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 for mine 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.
A Song of Praise for good Success in honest Affairs
Is not the Hand of God in this? 
    Is not this End divine? 
Lord of Success, Thee will I bless, 
    Who on my Paths do'st shine. 
I reap the Fruit of God Divine, 
    By him it was foreseen; 
He thought of this as well as I, 
    Or it had never been.

I blindly guess'd, but he foreknew; 
    I wish'd, he did command; 
Wherefore I praise his careful Eye, 
    And his unerring Hand. 
The Bow is drawn by feeble Arms, 
    Aim taken in the Dark, 
A providential Hand doth guide 
    The Arrow to the Mark.

Except the Lord the City keep, 
    The Watchman will be slain; 
Except the Lord do build the House, 
    The Builder builds in vain. 
Buildings are Babels, Cities Heaps, 
    When thou send'st Curse or Flame: 
And lab'ring Heads that promise Fruit, 
    Oft bring forth Wind and Shame.

But thou hast Crown'd my Actions, Lord, 
    With good Success today; 
This Crown, together with my self, 
    At thy blest Feet I lay. 
Lord, who art pleas'd to prosper me, 
    To bless me in my Ways; 
Prosper my weak endeavouring Heart, 
    Which aimeth at thy Praise.