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
Peace
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