When I am weary-hearted, overthrown,
And feel my life’s real insignificance,
I wonder how on any sudden chance
Through me God’s purpose ever can be known.
Then, as the grey mist gathers o’er the town,
On Birkrigg Fell I see a window glance,
And, like a star new fallen from its dance,
It glows and brightens till the sun drops down—
Some miner’s cot set careless on the hill,
That never dreamed its window so should burn—
Should flash such royal message back from Heaven:
Face thou the sun, faint heart, and stand thou still!
God’s level light may strike on thee in turn,
And glorious help to distant eyes be given.
(Sonnets at the English Lakes, p. 117)