My soul, there is a country, Afar beyond the stars, Where stands a wing?d sentry, All skillful 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 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.