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by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

   I am serenity. Though passions beat
      Like mighty billows on my helpless heart,
   I know beyond them lies the perfect sweet
      Serenity, which patience can impart.
   And when wild tempests in my bosom rage,
   “Peace, peace,” I cry, “it is my heritage.”

   I am good health. Though fevers rack my brain
      And rude disorders mutilate my strength,
   A perfect restoration after pain,
      I know shall be my recompense at length.
   And so through grievous day and sleepless night,
   “Health, health,” I cry, “it is my own by right.”

   I am success. Though hungry, cold, ill-clad,
      I wander for awhile, I smile and say,
   “It is but for a time—I shall be glad
      To-morrow, for good fortune comes my way.
   God is my father, He has wealth untold,
   His wealth is mine, health, happiness, and gold.”

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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