Men ask why I am left alone:
My brother, James, and Peter, all are slain;
Brave men who met the surging crimson deep
With equal minds. And Mary fell asleep,
His mother whom He gave me for my own.
But I with anchored hope remain.

I loved Him. It is long ago
Since I with Mary stood upon the hill
Where His last breath rose up in Sacrifice,
While tears fell earthward from our burning eyes,
And Jews were gibing on the slope below.
And yet I know He loves me still.

He loved me. And whene’er I dream
Of sunsets changing into glassy gold
The waters of the Galilean lake,
Or see in thought the Temple portals take
A pearly softness from the moonlight gleam,
He speaks with me, as once of old.

I love Him, for He first loved me.
He let me lean upon His holy breast,
He brought me first to view His empty grave;
He bade me learn that only love can save,
And call no fire from heaven but charity.
I work and wait, for He knows best.

That Rome which now oppresses us,
And all this rout of grey idolatry
Shall soon dissolve. For I can see the Light
Which guides the sun disperse the Asian night:
And straight above the reek of Ephesus
There burns the Love which died for me.