Heart's-Ease

O there was never a blossom
That bloomed so blithe as she,
On the bitter land, by the salt wet sand,
On the margin of the sea.
Where never a flower but the gorse can blow,
And the dry sea-pink that the mermen blow,
There grows she.

O there was never a blossom
That bloomed so brave as she,
On the narrow ledge of the mountain's edge
Where the wild-fowl hardly be,
And over her head the Four Seasons go
With a rush of wings when the Storm Kings blow--
There grows she.

O there was never a blossom
That bloomed content as she,
In the heart that burned, and loved, and learned
Of the Man of Galilee,
And plant her high, or plant her low,
In a bed of fire, or a field of snow,
There grows she.
--Amy Carmichael in Toward Jerusalem