Sacred Poems: Peace

My Soul, there is a country
Afar beyond the stars,
Where stands a winged Sentry
All skillful 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 your gracious friend
And (O my Soul awake!)
Did in pure love descend,
To die here for your sake.
If you can get but thither,
There grows the flower of peace,
The rose that cannot wither,
Your fortress, and your ease.
Leave then your foolish ranges;
For none can you secure,
But One, who never changes,
Your God, your Life, your Cure.

—Henry Vaughan (1622-1695)