
This poem was discovered in the public domain; no author cited.
As I’ve studied the book of 1 John, I’ve meandered in and out of the other works he contributed to the Christian faith: The Gospel of John, Revelation, and 1-3 John, and in researching more about his contributions to scripture, stumbled upon this sweet ode to the life of John, “beloved of Jesus.”
Apostle John
There lies a little lonely isle Where dark the salt waves run, And Grecian fishers dry their nets Against the Easter sun; And, many a hundred years ago, Within that island fair There dwelt an exiled Jewish man, A man of reverend air; His eye was bright as setting suns, His aged form unbent; The little children following, He blest them as he went. That head, beloved, at suppertime He leant on Jesus' breast; That honoured hand had taken home His Mother for a guest; That eye had seen in glorious trance, Mysterious things to be, Wild visions of impending doom On heaven, and earth, and sea? His pen had writ of times to come, Of dearer times bygone; He was the fisher's chosen son, The Lord's beloved Saint John. And he had drunk his Master's cup So long, so patiently, And now he lingered there, the last, Till Christ should set him free. I wish I'd lived in those old times, And been a Grecian child, To hear that old man's blessing kind, To meet him when he smiled, To learn the words of holy love That ever from his lips Fell, gentle as the evening dew The thirsty blossom sips. But love endureth through all age; Nor time, nor distance drear, Divide the living and the dead, Of Christ's communion dear. For all His saints in Him are one; The exile o'er the sea, The child within his English home, The struggling and the free. The good Saint John hath rest at last; He wears the promised crown; And still by the dear church he watched, His words are handed down; And we shall meet him, not as once On that far island shore, But where apostles, martyrs, saints, Have peace forevermore.