One Nation Under God: An Ode to Our Beautiful, Exceptional America by Debbie Harris

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Dear Reader,

From the depths of a poet’s grateful heart, I offer these verses in solemn and joyful tribute to the enduring miracle of our republic. We are a constitutional republic — a government of laws, not of men — founded upon timeless principles of liberty, limited government, and the consent of the governed. In an age when many voices rise and fall like shifting winds, this poem stands as a quiet yet fervent declaration of what has always made America radiant among the nations of the earth: her identity as one nation under God — indivisible, sovereign, and exceptional not by the boast of men, but by the humble recognition that true liberty flows from a higher Source and is safeguarded by our sacred Constitution.

Here is woven the story of a land forged by dreamers and defended by the brave, a vast and varied tapestry of mountains and meadows, cities and small towns, peoples from every corner of the world who have come together beneath the same sacred banner. May these lines stir in you the same awe and affection I feel when I behold our flag against the sky, when I hear the ancient promise still echoing through our valleys and across our plains: that we are indeed one nation under God, a constitutional republic, beautiful beyond measure, exceptional in our calling, and forever entrusted with the sacred charge of liberty and justice for all.

Let this ode be both prayer and praise — a song lifted not merely for what America is, but for what she continues to aspire to become under the watchful and merciful hand of Providence.

O beautiful, boundless, exceptional land,

Where the eagle rides thunder and mountains command,

From the frost-gilded Rockies to coral-kissed keys,

America sings on the breath of the breeze.

Her rivers are verses, her canyons are psalms,

Her prairies lie golden beneath heaven’s palms.

The wheat fields whisper, the redwoods stand tall,

And liberty’s light never falters or falls.

Forged in the fire of dreamers and bold,

Who crossed raging oceans for freedom’s pure gold,

They planted a promise in soil rich and deep —

One nation under God, where the brave hearts keep

Their covenant sacred, their union indivisible,

With justice and mercy forever invincible.

Her cities blaze diamonds against the night sky,

Her small towns hold lanterns of neighborly light.

From every shore, every tongue, every creed,

A chorus arises — in harmony freed.

Through storm and through trial her spirit endures,

Rising like dawn when the darkness obscures.

She is hope’s bright banner, she is courage’s flame,

Exceptional not by perfection’s cold claim,

But by the wild promise that all may ascend

To the heights of their soul where the free heart bends.

O America, anthem carved deep in our veins,

Land of the free where the dreamer remains.

Beneath the same God who first granted us birth,

One nation under God — the most beautiful on earth.

May your stars keep their fire, your stripes keep their pride,

May your people walk worthy, side by side.

In your vast, open arms the world finds its wing —

Forever our love, forever we sing.

Stars, Stripes, and Sacred Fire: A Triumphant Celebration of American Independence and God-Given Liberty by Debbie Harris

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Dear Reader,

On this Fourth of July, we pause to remember the extraordinary miracle of America. This is not just another nation, but a bold experiment in human liberty — conceived in courage, birthed in defiance of tyranny, and consecrated to the truth that rights come from God, not government.

This poem is a song of gratitude and triumph. It celebrates the founders’ vision, the price paid in blood and sacrifice, and the enduring promise that still calls to every generation: freedom is worth defending, worth renewing, and worth passing to our children.

May it stir your heart with pride, renew your resolve, and lift your eyes to the stars and stripes waving against the sky.

With joyful patriotism and humble thanks,

The Poet

Arise, O land of stars and stripes, on this bright sacred morn,

Where liberty was born in fire and tyrants’ chains were torn!

From Lexington’s first ringing shot to Yorktown’s final drum,

A nation rose in thunder, and the dawn of freedom come.

We hold these truths self-evident, by Heaven’s own decree:

That all men are created equal, and forever free.

Endowed by their Creator with rights no king can steal—

Life and liberty and the pursuit of happiness, pure and real.

No distant throne, no iron fist, no red flag flying high

Could break the spirit of the free or dim Columbia’s sky.

Through valley forge and bloody field, through tempests fierce and wild,

They pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor undefiled.

Now rockets burst in jeweled flame across the summer night,

Red, white, and blue in glory write their everlasting light.

The eagle soars, the anthems soar, the bells of freedom ring—

A triumph not of mortal men, but what the Almighty brings.

We are the heirs of Bunker Hill, of bold Philadelphia’s pen,

Of every heart that loved this land far more than fear of men.

Let tyrants plot and serpents hiss their promises of chains—

America still stands unbowed, and ever will remain.

So lift your voice, O patriot, beneath the banner bright,

For on this Fourth we celebrate the victory of right.

From sea to shining sea we sing, with grateful hearts aflame:

Long live the land of liberty—sweet freedom’s holy name!

The Red Serpent’s Treason: Communism, Socialism, and Progressivism’s War on God, Nation, and the Souls of Millions by Debbie Harris

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Dear Reader,

I wrote this poem not merely to recount history’s tragedies, but to sound a warning. The ideologies of communism, socialism, and progressivism have repeatedly promised heaven on earth while delivering hell—more than one hundred million graves stand as silent witnesses.

Beyond the body count lies a deeper betrayal: these systems are profoundly anti-biblical, replacing God with the State, private property and honest labor with enforced envy, and individual dignity with collective submission. They represent a modern form of the ancient serpent’s temptation—dressed in the red flag—whispering equality while striking at the foundations of faith, family, and freedom.

This is also treason—against the God who grants unalienable rights, and against the constitutional republic built upon those truths. My prayer is that this lament stirs remembrance before forgetting leads us down the same crimson path again.

With solemn urgency,

The Poet

Exodus 20:17 — “Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is thy neighbour’s.”
(Against envy and covetousness as political virtue)

Exodus 20:15 — “Thou shalt not steal.”
(Against the seizure of private property and labor)

Matthew 22:21 — “Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s; and unto God the things that are God’s.”
(Against total state idolatry and the erasure of God’s domain)

2 Thessalonians 3:10 — “For even when we were with you, this we commanded you, that if any would not work, neither should he eat.”
(Against the rejection of personal responsibility)

Genesis 3:4-5 — “And the serpent said unto the woman, Ye shall not surely die: For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.”
(The original “serpent’s” false promise of equality and godhood)

In shadowed halls where sirens sang of chains unbound,

A serpent whispered “equality,” then dragged the dream aground.

From Marx’s ink to Lenin’s gun, the crimson banner rose,

Promising paradise for all—yet millions met their throes.

Ukraine’s black earth drank deep in Holodomor’s cruel night,

Six million starved by Stalin’s will, extinguished from the light.

Great Leap’s furnaces consumed forty-five million more,

Mao’s paradise of steel became a graveyard’s door.

Pol Pot’s Year Zero reaped two million in the fields,

Skulls piled high where temples stood, and mercy’s voice was stilled.

Gulags, purges, killing fields—twenty million, thirty, more—

The ledger of utopia written red with human gore.

Yet deeper runs the treason, not just against the land,

But treason ‘gainst the Living God by their own willful hand.

They dethroned Heaven’s Sovereign, enthroned the State instead,

Covetousness as gospel, envy’s lust painted red.

The Bible thunders “Thou shalt not steal,” and “Love thy neighbor true,”

It honors honest labor’s fruit and rights that God bestows.

But they rewrite the sacred text as hate and backward sin,

While families fracture, crosses fall, and darkness closes in.

Progressivism’s velvet glove slips on the iron fist,

Marching through the schools and courts, the churches in its twist.

It calls the founders’ covenant a relic to discard—

Unalienable rights from God? Replaced by commissar.

This is the ancient spirit of Babel raised anew,

Man playing god with human lives, the state in place of You.

Treason to the Republic, treason to the Cross above,

Betraying blood-bought liberty for chains they label “love.”

A hundred million witnesses cry silent from the clay:

No system built on envy thrives; it only slays and slays.

Heed the graves, the empty thrones, the laughter turned to moans—

The road to hell is paved with good intentions, smooth as stone.

Let memory stand defiant ‘gainst the rising tide,

Where freedom’s flame is dimmed by lies that freedom’s name deride.

For in the end the horror proves what Scripture long has known:

Collectivist delight devours the soul—and calls the feast its own.

“Blessed Is the Nation Whose God Is the Lord”: Celebrating God’s Grace Upon America by Debbie Harris

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A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

This poem flows from a heart full of joy and thanksgiving to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. With deep love and admiration, I celebrate America — the greatest nation on earth, a shining beacon of liberty and faith. From the courageous pilgrims who first planted the Cross on these shores to the brave founders who built this land upon God’s eternal Word, America stands as a testament to divine blessing and grace. May these verses fill you with pride, stir your spirit to worship, and inspire you to praise the Lord who has so richly favored this beloved land.

With joyful celebration for Jesus and for America,
The Poet

Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord,
America, the land of boundless grace,
Where pilgrims knelt upon this sacred shore
And raised the Cross in this new-world place.
From Plymouth Rock to stars and stripes unfurled,
Your founders pledged their lives to Christ alone;
In God We Trust still echoes through the world—
The greatest nation freedom calls her home.

Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord.

Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord,
Whose Declaration bears His holy flame,
Whose Constitution rests upon His Word,
Whose Liberty rings out in Jesus’ name.
Through battlefields and valleys deep with pain,
Your people turned to Heaven’s healing hand;
The blood-stained banner waved through wind and rain—
Redeemed by grace, you rose to bless the land.

Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord.

Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord,
O shining city on a hill so bright,
Where eagles soar and Gospel truth is poured
From sea to shining sea in holy light.
Your mountains sing, your prairies lift His praise,
Your cities pulse with mercy’s endless flow;
Though storms may come, your heart still seeks His face—
America, the land where blessings grow.

Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord.

Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord,
Whose sons and daughters kneel before the throne,
Who crown the Savior King forevermore
And make His righteousness their cornerstone.
Let every heart cry out with grateful song,
Let every voice exalt the risen Lamb;
America, to Christ you still belong—
The best of all the nations of the earth.

Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord.

Unholy Convergence: Communism, Islam, and Anti-Semitism — A Treasonous Pact Against the West by Debbie Harris

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Poet’s Note

Dear Reader,

This poem stands as a literary warning against the convergence of three destructive forces. I have deliberately kept the verses free of direct scriptural references so the imagery and rhythm may speak on their own. The biblical foundations that shaped my perspective are offered here separately for those who seek them.

The themes draw from Scripture’s repeated warnings against godless ideologies, spiritual deception, and enmity toward the Jewish people and the covenant God made with them. Key passages include Psalm 2 (nations raging against the Lord), Genesis 12:3 and Zechariah 2:8 (blessing or cursing Israel), and Ephesians 6:12 (our struggle against spiritual powers of darkness).

May the poem stir reflection, and may the accompanying truths bring clarity.

In solemn witness,

The Poet

In shadowed halls where freedom’s light grows dim,

A treasonous trio weaves its venomous hymn.

Communism, the serpent with egalitarian guise,

Devours the soul while promising paradise.

It levels the towers, shatters the chain,

But forges new masters in iron and pain.

Class against class, in endless red flood,

It drowns the individual in rivers of blood.

Beside it strides Islam, the crescent blade drawn,

Veiled in submission from dusk until dawn.

Conquest in verses, from Mecca it came,

To claim every land in Allah’s holy name.

No tolerance blooms where the faithful decree

That infidels bow or cease to be free.

Jihad whispers soft in the ear of the weak,

While minarets rise over silenced critique.

And linking their hands, the ancient curse unfurled—

Anti-Semitism, the venom that poisons the world.

It hates the chosen who gave law and light,

The root of the West, now marked for the night.

From Bolshevik purges to fatwas proclaimed,

From campus chants to pogroms enflamed,

It scapegoats the Jew for the dreamers’ own fall,

A dagger eternal, aimed at us all.

O trio of treason, you dance in the fray,

Marx, Muhammad, and hatred in grim cabaret.

You cloak your alliance in justice and faith,

Yet breed only chaos, decay, and wraith.

Where reason once reigned, your shadows converge,

To topple the pillars that liberty urged.

Beware, free peoples, this venomous three—

United in darkness, they come for the tree.

Stand firm in the light, let truth be your sword,

Expose the alliance, its treacherous hoard.

For history echoes with graves of the blind,

Who welcomed the trio and lost heart and mind.

Antisemitism: The Ancient Poison by Debbie Harris

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A Note to the Reader

Dear Reader,

Antisemitism is not ancient history—it is a deadly, unrelenting poison that continues to corrupt our age, twisting truth, reviving blood libels, and branding Jews as the eternal source of every evil. Whether disguised as “anti-Zionism,” wrapped in religious fanaticism, or shouted through modern protest chants, it is the same vile hatred: a direct assault on decency, reason, and the very foundations of Western civilization. It can never be loyal to America. It openly rejects the Constitution’s sacred promise of equal rights and deliberately destroys the Judeo-Christian bedrock that built our liberty. This is not simple prejudice—it is a treasonous betrayal of the open society that protects us all.

Scripture thunders against this evil with unbreakable clarity. Genesis 12:3 warns: “I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse.” Zechariah 2:8 declares that striking Israel is like touching the apple of God’s own eye. Psalm 122:6 commands us to pray for Jerusalem’s peace. Romans 11 affirms that God has not cast off His people and that His gifts and calling to Israel remain irrevocable. Proverbs 6:16-19 lists those who sow discord and spill innocent blood among the things the Lord detests.

We must confront this wickedness without flinching. Name antisemitism for the cancer it is. Enforce our laws with iron resolve. Deport its advocates. Refuse to import or tolerate this destructive force any longer. America is not a suicide pact. Protect the Republic with unyielding strength. Defend what is right, true, and good—before it is too late.

With clarity, courage, and unshakeable resolve,

The Poet

Antisemitism is no relic of the past,

It surges today with a venomous blast.

It twists the truth and revives old lies,

Brands every Jew as the cause of our cries.

Since Jesus was born from their sacred line,

Satan has hunted them, ruthless and blind.

The adversary rages with furious hate,

Against the people through whom came our fate—

Salvation’s root and redemption’s gate.

This is no mere bias, it’s spiritual war,

A demonic strike at the covenant’s core.

Whether masked as “anti-Zionism” today,

Or marching in streets with its ancient display,

It assaults the West and its hard-won light,

Rejects the Constitution’s promise of right.

It cannot be loyal, it will not abide

With American values or freedom’s wide tide.

It erodes the foundations, both moral and true,

That the Judeo-Christian faith built anew.

Scripture thunders with warning severe:

Genesis Twelve—those who bless them are dear,

But cursers shall face what they choose to sow near.

Zechariah declares the apple of God’s eye,

Touch Israel and Heaven’s wrath draws nigh.

Pray for Jerusalem’s peace, Psalm one-two-two,

For those who love her shall prosper too.

Romans Eleven—God’s gifts stand unmoved,

His calling on Israel has never been removed.

We must rise with courage, unblinking and bold,

Name this evil clearly, let truth be told.

Enforce every law with unyielding hand,

Deport its champions from our sovereign land.

America’s no suicide pact, we declare—

We defend our Republic with honor and care.

No more tolerance for this poisonous blade.

Stand firm for the future our children have made.

The fight is upon us. The hour is now.

Defend what is righteous. Take your vow.

May Every Sin Become a Loud Chain: The Mercy of Broken Knees by Debbie Harris

A Note from the Poet:

Dear Reader,

This poem was born from a simple prayer I once whispered: May every sin in our lives be like a loud chain that brings us to our knees in repentance, then freedom we shall see.

I do not wish for suffering, but I have learned that the loudest mercies often arrive in chains. When sin rattles loud enough, it forces honesty. When we finally fall to our knees, we discover the ground is holy. What felt like punishment becomes the very path to freedom. If these words find you bound, weary, or quietly breaking, take heart. The chain is not the end. It is only the beginning of grace.

With hope and prayer,
The Poet

May every sin in our lives
clang like a rusted iron chain,
echoing through the hollow vaults of pride
until its clamor breaks the vein
of self-deceit we long maintained.

Let it drag us, heavy and unrelenting,
down to the dust where knees must bend,
where faces flush and spirits rent
confess the wounds we would not mend.
No velvet lie, no soft excuse—
only truth’s harsh, holy bruise.

There, in the wreckage of our will,
repentance kindles like a flame;
the shackles groan, the fetters thrill,
and mercy calls us by our name.
What bound us once in deafening night
now testifies in morning light.

The chains fall broken at our feet,
their iron song forever stilled.
We rise unburdened, clean, complete—
forgiven, freed, and Spirit-filled.
So let the rattling never cease
until it leads us home to peace.

For only through their crushing weight
do prisoners learn to walk in grace.
O God, make every sin a gate
that opens wide on heaven’s face.

Victorious Conscience: No Longer Glass Reflecting Failures — The Triumph of the Cross and Blood by Debbie Harris

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Dear Reader,

This poem arises from a single, astonishing truth that echoes through the ninth and tenth chapters of Hebrews: the blood of Jesus does not merely cancel a debt in the heavenly ledger; it reaches deeper, into the hidden chamber of the human conscience, and there it cleanses what no animal sacrifice, no repeated vow, and no amount of religious effort ever could. The old covenant left worshippers forgiven yet burdened, their sins covered but their inner sense of guilt perpetually reawakened. Christ’s once-for-all offering does what religion could only imitate — it removes the sin and quiets the accuser within. In a world that still rehearses yesterday’s failures and whispers that we are not yet worthy, this poem is an invitation to let revelation do what striving never can. May these lines help you lay down the chains you were never meant to carry and walk boldly into the presence of the Father, not as a guilty servant, but as a beloved child whose conscience has been sprinkled clean. The work is finished. The blood still speaks. All things are new.

With humility and love,

From the poet.

Beneath the ceaseless smoke of lesser fires,
where goat and bull bled out their rote desire,
the heart kept count. Each knife a metronome
ticking the debt that never reached its sum.
The temple’s shadow lengthened on the stone;
forgiveness came in fractions, never whole.

Then, once, the veil no mortal hand had torn
was split by vein and thorn and holy scorn.
Not cover — excision. Blood that spoke
through marrow, memory, the mind’s own yoke.
It stormed the court where accusation reigned
and silenced every verdict it contained.

No more the dragging of the slain behind,
old selves rehearsed like iron chains of pain.
The enemy returns with borrowed breath,
but finds the tomb already void of death.
What Heaven has erased, no hell can stain,
no watermark of guilt can reinstate.

O mind, unlearn the liturgy of guilt.
Let revelation break the buried fault.
Fix on the One whose ending undid all —
the cross that swallowed every lesser fall.
Sprung clean, the conscience turns — no longer glass
reflecting failures, but a living lens
through which we draw near to the Father’s face,
with boldness, sprinkled clean, and full of rest.

Here is the peace that passes understanding:
not earned, but entered, like a room long standing
open since the sixth hour on that hill.
Walk through. The blood still sings: all things are new.

Praise Anthem on Psalm 33:2 by Debbie Harris

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Psalm 33:2 (KJV)

Praise the LORD with harp: sing unto him with the psaltery and an instrument of ten strings.

Dear Reader,

These words were written as an invitation—to lift your heart, your voice, and every instrument you have, not out of duty, but because of who God is. His truth, His unfailing love, His power to create and to rescue—these are the reasons our joy refuses to stay silent. May this anthem stir you to worship with abandon.

Praise the Lord with harp and soaring strings—

let joyful thunder burst from every chord!

Awake the psaltery; its ten bright rings

explode in triumph, singing to the Lord.

We sing because His word is true and right,

because His every promise stands secure.

He spoke the galaxies to blazing light,

and breathed this living, breathing world secure.

We sing because His steadfast love runs deep,

unfailing through the rising tide of years.

When fear would steal our joy or sorrow creep,

His mercy meets us, dries our hidden tears.

We sing because He watches over all—

the nations in His hands, the hearts that trust.

He rescues, shields, and lifts us when we fall,

and turns our mourning into shouts of dust-to-glory trust.

So strike every note with passion, bold and free—

let music leap and dance across the air.

No silent heart can hold this blazing sea

of gladness surging upward like a prayer.

Let brass and woodwind, drum and ringing bell

join in the glad explosion of His fame.

The rivers clap, the mountains laugh and swell,

creation joins the chorus of His name.

From quiet rooms to stadiums of praise,

lift every voice until the heavens roar.

The King of glory meets us all our days—

His endless love forever burns the more!

To God alone belongs this mighty song—

the reason for our joy, forever strong.

Be Still and Know That God Is on the Throne by Debbie Harris

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Dear Reader,

In the latter days, when the foundations of the earth are shaken and the kingdoms of men reel to and fro like a drunkard (Isaiah 24:20), when the dragon grows wroth and the night seems long, I set forth this song of ascents. It is a meditation upon the eternal decree of the Most High, who “sitteth upon the circle of the earth” and “bringeth the princes to nothing” (Isaiah 40:22–23). Take heed, weary pilgrim: the Lord of Hosts has not abdicated His throne. The Lamb that was slain is the Lion who has prevailed. Though principalities and powers rage, though death and hell lift up their voice, yet “the Lord reigneth; let the earth rejoice” (Psalm 97:1). Be still, therefore, and know that I AM is God (Psalm 46:10). He who commanded light out of darkness, who stilled the waves with a word, who burst the bars of the grave — He abideth faithful upon the throne of glory, high and lifted up. His mercy endureth forever, and His kingdom shall have no end. May these lines be as a lamp unto thy feet in the valley of the shadow, and a banner of triumph lifted high against the gathering gloom. Unto Him who is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy — to the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and ever. Amen.

The Poet

Be still, O soul, when darkness veils the land,
When tempests roar, and mountains bow in fear,
When tyrants boast, and hell’s black legions stand,
And every mortal hope dissolves in tears.
The cosmos trembles, yet one truth is known—
Be still, and know: God sits upon the throne.

Supreme in light no mortal eye can bear,
Where seraphim in ceaseless worship fall,
He reigns unchallenged, sovereign everywhere,
The Ancient One who fashioned earth and all.
No storm, no sword, no shadow of the night
Can dim the splendor of His holy light.

Though empires sink like stones in raging seas,
Though war and plague consume the works of men,
Though grief may crush and sorrow’s tempest seize
The broken heart again and yet again—
Still from His throne the King of Glory sings,
And bends all chaos to His purposes.

Be still, my heart, when death draws near thy door,
When loved ones sleep beneath the cold, dark sod.
Lift up thine eyes! The risen Lord before
Has shattered graves and triumphed over blood.
The Lion roars; the darkness flees His face—
The throne stands firm, unmovable by grace.

Triumphant! Let the dragon rage and roar,
Let hell unleash its final, furious tide—
The Lamb once slain has conquered evermore;
His victory echoes far and wide.
All knees shall bow, all tongues at last proclaim:
The Lord is on the throne, forever reigning!