John on Patmos by Esther Hooker Catlin

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Washington, D.C. · Jan 11, 1906

John on Patmos

By Esther Hooker Catlin

I am alone on the Patmos isle. No sound of voice, nor touch of human hand Is here for me; No footprints on the headland where I stand, No sail at sea,— Only the vast, immeasurable arch of blue And the eternal waves reflecting heaven’s hue.

I am bowed down and broken with my years, I, who was once the swifter in the race On the great day When I outran that other to the place Where Jesus lay. On through the city gate, and o’er the vale we sped, Not knowing that we sought the living ’mid the dead.

I am unfriended on this barren shore. But once with Him on Judah’s hills I walked Beloved the best; And oft His face shone on me as we talked, To make me blest. E’en now those wondrous words He spake come back to me, “Fear not, nor be cast down; I will return to thee.”

And only I am left of all the Twelve. I, who was last to leave Him on the tree, Alone recall His words, His voice, and how He looked on me. That look spoke all: My soul, though dull to comprehend it, lost all fears; And now I know its meaning, after many years.

I am cast forth, and into exile driven; But in my solitude there comes to me A holy dream,— The vision of a kingdom that shall be,— World-wide, supreme; And He, the Lamb that sitteth on its great, white throne That vision gives to all who wait with Him alone.

—Esther Hooker Catlin, in The Independent.