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Edited by Gill Burrell, Saturday, 12 Sep 2020, 18:26

My soul there is a country

Far beyond the stars,

Where stands a winged century

All skilful in the wars.

There, above noise and danger,

Sweet peace sits crown’d with smiles,

And one born in a manger

Commands the beauteous files.

He is thy gracious friend

And O my soul awake!

Did in pure love descend

To die here for thy sake.

If thou can get but thither,

There grows the flower of peace,

The rose that cannot wither

Thy fortress and  thy ease.

Leave then thy foolish ranges

For none can thee secure

But one who never changes,

Thy God, thy life, thy cure.

Henry Vaughan

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