A Little Minister

Far up the crag, 'twixt sea and sky,Where winds tempestuous, blowing by,Leave giant boulders swept and bare:Where frequent lightnings fitful flare,And petrels sound their stormy cry,—

I found a bluebell, sweet and shy,Lifting its head complacently,As guarded by the tenderest care—Far up the crag.

And often now, when fear draws nigh,In thought I stand 'twixt sea and sky,And as of old, in my despair,I bless the Power that set it there—That tiny thing with courage high,Far up the crag!