1 My soul, there is a country far beyond the stars, where stands a wingèd sentry all skilful in the wars. 2 There, above noise and danger, sweet peace sits crowned with smiles, and One born in a manger commands the beauteous files. 3 He is thy gracious Friend, and — O my soul, awake! — did in pure love descend, to die here for thy sake. 4 If thou canst get but thither, there grows the flower of peace, the rose that cannot wither, thy fortress and thy ease. 5 Leave then thy foolish ranges, for none can thee secure but one who never changes, thy God, thy life, thy cure.