Peace
My Soul, there is a Countrie
Far beyond the stars
Where stands a wingèd Centrie
All skilfull 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 growes the flowre of peace
The Rose that cannot wither
Thy fortresse, and thy ease;
Leaven then thy foolish ranges;
For none can thee secure
But one, who never changes
Thy God, thy life, thy Cure