Dedicated to the Rev. William N. Penfield.
My Soul, there is a Countrie far beyond the stars,
Where stands a winged Centrie all skilfull 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 growes the flowre of peace,
The Rose than cannot wither, thy fortresse, and thy ease;
Leave then thy foolish ranges; for none can thee secure,
But one, who never changes, thy God, thy life, thy Cure.
—Henry Vaughan (1621-1695)