My soul, there is a country Far beyond the stars, Where stands a winged sentry All skilful in the wars: There, above noise and danger Sweet Peace sits crowned 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 canst get but thither, There grows the flow'r 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.
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