Imprisoned on this lonely isle,

In a stone hut by the sea,

Midst storm and famine, cold and drought,

My Savior comforts me.

Countless years, yet wasted not,

With pen in hand I took

To write of One who called to me

When He my way did look.

I left the sea to follow Him,

I trod the Master’s steps.

I heard His words and felt His love

And trembled when He wept.

He bore the sorrows of the lost

And comforted the souls

Of all who came to hear His words;

Believing made them whole.

Yet still my longing spirit stirs

For the day that soon shall be

When He shall call my name once more

And His face again I’ll see.

Nathanael Reed