“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, 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, the 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.”
-Henry Vaughan, Christmas Poems, pub. 1897