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 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.