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| THE BLUE Egean’s countless waves in sabbath sunlight smiled, | |
| And murmuring washed the rocky shore of that lone island wild; | |
| Where unto him whom Jesus loved, “such views sublime were given, | |
| That e’en the land of exile shone the very gate of heaven!” | |
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| He saw the radiant form of Him, upon whose sorrowing breast, | 5 |
| At the last supper’s solemn feast his weary head found rest; | |
| One “like unto the Son of Man,” all glorious to behold, | |
| Arrayed in robes of dazzling light, and girt with purest gold. | |
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| His head and hair were white as wool; His eyes a fiery flame, | |
| Not tearful now as when He trod this world of sin and shame; | 10 |
| His countenance was as the sun, His voice was as the sound | |
| Of many waters murmuring deep in harmony profound. | |
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| But when before His feet as dead, the loved disciple fell, | |
| How gently deigned the Prince of life His servant’s fears to quell! | |
| And gave him strength to see His face, whom highest heavens adore, | 15 |
| The Lord, who “liveth and was dead,” and lives for evermore! | |
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| Oh! then upon his raptured gaze what floods of glory streamed; | |
| He saw the land of love and light—the home of the redeemed; | |
| He stood by life’s resplendent stream, whose tide in music rolled | |
| Throughout the holy city’s length among its streets of gold. | 20 |
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| He heard the mighty new-made song, to angel-hosts unknown, | |
| Go up like incense unto Him that sat upon the throne; | |
| And the pure strains by seraphs sung in that celestial sphere, | |
| In sweetest cadence rose and fell upon his listening ear. | |
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| Within the flashing walls of heaven, with jewelled splendor bright, | 25 |
| He saw the countless multitudes, arrayed in saintly white; | |
| He marked them with their waving palms, in worship bending low, | |
| Before the feet of Him who smil’d beneath the emerald bow. | |
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| The pearly gates, the crystal sea, the universal hymn, | |
| The sun-bright forms, the brilliant eyes, which tears may never dim, | 30 |
| The healing trees, the fadeless flowers, the harpings of the blest, | |
| In splendid vision to his soul revealed the promised rest. | |
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| Long since that aged saint hath reached the fair celestial shore; | |
| And gained the martyr’s crown, for he the martyr’s suffering bore; | |
| Long since his happy feet have stood within his Father’s home; | 35 |
| Yet still the mighty voice he heard, with ceaseless cry saith “Come”! | |
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| And life’s bright fountain springeth yet, as free, and fresh, and fair, | |
| As when in Patmos’ dreary isle it cheered the exile there! | |
| And hark! the Spirit and the Bride repeat, in mercy still, | |
| That he who is athirst may drink—yea whosoever will! | 40 |
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| O blessed voices! be it ours your loving call to hear, | |
| And so obey that when, at last, from yonder radiant sphere | |
| The heavenly bridegroom shall descend, to claim His own again, | |
| We may lift up our hearts and say, “Lord, even so, Amen!” | |
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