My soul, there is a country
Afar beyond the stars,
Where stands a winged sentry
And 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 the foolish ranges;
For none can thee secure,
But one, who never changes,
Thy God, thy life, thy cure.
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