Happiness. Poem by Daniel Baker

Would you, my Friend, true Happiness obtain
I'll tell you how that Treasure you may gain,
Not Wealth, nor Wit, nor Wine, nor Women can
Bring solid Comfort to the Mind of Man:
But Wisdom, Virtue, Truth and Innocence,
With their Rewards, the Store--house are, from whence
This rare and precious Gift the Almighty doth dispence.

True Mirth and Peace to visit will not deign
The gilded Roofs, where wicked Tyrants reign:
But love t'inhabit in the meanest Cell,
Where innocent and humble Souls do dwell.
Saul's restless Heart with jealous rage did fret,
While David fed his flock secure, and set
Such Hymns to's sacred Harp, as Angels still repeat.

Not Beds of Down sound sleep to him can bring
Whom anxious Thoughts, or sinful Terrours sting.
Seek not, if quiet slumbers you would find,
To have your Limbs lie easie, but your mind:
Whose Head is free from Care, from Guilt whose Breast,
That Man upon a Stone may softly rest.
So Jacob sleeping was with Heav'nly Visions blest.