Peace

My soul, there is a Countrie
Far beyond the stars
Where stands a winged Centrie
All skilful 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 flowre 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.

- Henry Vaughan

Happy Thanksgiving! - So much to be thankful for...