Sunday, November 12, 2006


Here is a poem I think would be well worth memorizing. Henry Vaughan conveys such a earnest, pressing joyful spiritual vision of intmacy with Christ. I find him convincing like Herbert and Donne, providing the measure of the matter.


My soul, there is a country
Far 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 mangerCommands 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,
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 1621-1695

See also his "Come, come, what doe I here?" which seems to me to evince an eanest heartfelt English maranatha-ing.

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