Poem March 29, 1941 Issue

In the Isle of Patmos

HELEN ROBERTSON WHITEHEAD

The watchfulness of ever-present Love
Would guide John still within this banishment,
For otherwise the dreary monotone
Of shifting seas had grown unbearable.
A prisoner of God withheld from usefulness!
What mattered earthly hopes or waiting years
To him who, steadfast and aloof, rejoiced?
Truth's "still small voice" through wilderness of days
Rebuked his doubt, inspired, and comforted.
And then a night when stars companioned not,
And lifted thought had silenced murmuring tides.
John saw anew the stretch of wondrous hours
Spent at his Master's side! Great shadows fled.
Day poured above the rim of dark a light
That hallowed all the land and sea and sky,
Exalting, flooding him with heavenly vision!
Descending was the New Jerusalem,
A city royal, fair, alight with Love
And glory of the promised Comforter!
Then came a voice as when a trumpet blows,
"Fear not, but write. ..." How ready for this task
John was! Immortal scribe of Revelation,
He prophesied with gleaming words from Spirit
A full appearing of the truth divine!

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In the Isle of Patmos

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