The Root and the Tool: When the Love of Money Becomes Anathema but Money Itself Remains a Faithful Servant by Debbie Harris

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Poet’s Note

Dear Reader,

This poem was born from a deep ache I could no longer silence.

We live in an age where the Church is too often measured by budgets, buildings, and bank accounts rather than by brokenness before God and hunger for His Word. The tragic deception is real: too many have grown more fluent in the language of “seed and harvest” than in the piercing truths of Scripture. The very pages that gleam with divine gold and silver are left unread while earthly gold and silver command the altar.

I do not write to curse prosperity or honest gain — those can be beautiful gifts when held with open hands. I write to expose the quiet idolatry that creeps in when the sound of money becomes sweeter than the voice of the Holy Spirit. When Mammon is welcomed into the sanctuary, the Cross is quietly moved to the side.

My earnest prayer is that these lines would awaken a holy discontent — a longing to treasure the Bible above every financial promise, and to love Christ more than any blessing He gives. May the refining fire burn away every false gospel, and may Scripture once again become the loudest voice in the house of God.

With trembling hands and a watchful heart,

The Poet

Money itself bears no stain of the curse;

It’s servant and tool, like the ox or the plow.

It feeds hungry thousands, it builds up the Church,

It clothes naked orphans and waters the brow.

Prosperity flows from obedient hands—

A river of blessing when channeled aright.

The temple was gilded by generous plans;

The poor were remembered in tithes and delight.

But love of this money—the clutching, the lust—

This root of all evils that strangles the soul,

This anathema poison that turns gold to dust

And trades living water for glittering coal.

It hardens the heart till compassion runs dry,

It whispers sweet lies in prosperity’s name,

It crowns self as savior while Jesus stands by

And watches the rich fool forget his own name.

Christ flipped the tables on profit and greed,

Yet dined with the wealthy and let them provide.

He warned of the danger, yet never decreed

That honest abundance itself must be denied.

So let money serve freely where justice demands—

A faithful envoy of the Father above.

But guard well the altar: no idol may stand

Where the love of the Lord burns hotter than love

Of silver or gold or the treasures of earth.

Choose now whom you serve. Let the Bible rehearse:

God first. Then the coin as His humble envoy—

Never the master. Never the curse.

The Tragic Deception: When Christendom Loves Gold More Than the Gold-Filled Pages of Scripture by Debbie Harris

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The Tragic Deception

(The Church and the Golden Idol)

1 Timothy 6:10 (KJV)

For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.

Matthew 6:24 (KJV)

No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon

If Christendom bows to the chime of cold gold,

To silver’s soft rustle, to currency’s call,

More than the Scriptures where treasures untold

Lie layered like fire in refining’s pure hall—

Then tragedy reigns in this demonic deceit,

Where shepherds grow fat while the sheep starve for bread,

Where marble cathedrals and ledgers compete

With the voice of the Spirit long silenced and dead.

The gold-filled pages lie dusty and dim,

While vaults overflow and the pulpit grows tame.

They preach “abundance” but crucify Him

Who warned that a rich man can die in his shame.

O Church, wake and tremble! This lie is your snare—

A glittering noose wrapped in “blessing” and “seed.”

The Cross is not commerce; the Kingdom not fair

When Mammon is master and Jesus recedes.

Return to the furnace where truth is assayed,

Where money is vapor and Scripture is flame.

Let love of the Word be your only parade—

Not the rattle of riches, the curse of ill gain.

The Triumph of the Most High: Encouragement for Believers When the Wicked Spring Forth as Grass – Psalm 92:5-9 in Classical Heroic Verse by Debbie Harris

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A Note from the Poet

Dear Believer,

When evil seems to flourish all around us—when the wicked rise like unchecked grass and the workers of iniquity appear unstoppable—take heart. The Lord sees it clearly and declares with divine finality: “Nope.” Their moment is brief, their root already severed beneath His sovereign hand.

This is the triumphant heart of Psalm 92: the temporary bloom of wickedness contrasted with the everlasting exaltation of our God. Read these lines when discouragement presses in. Speak them aloud. Let them remind you that justice is not delayed forever—evil will be cut down, scattered like chaff, and overthrown, while the Lord reigns on high, forevermore.

You are not alone in the fight. The same God who cuts down the proud upholds the righteous. Stand firm, believer—your King has already spoken.

With courage and hope,

The Poet

(A Classical Rhyme Poem – For Believers)

Psalm 92:5-9 (KJV)

O LORD, how great are thy works!and thy thoughts are very deep. A brutish man knoweth not; neither doth a fool understand this. When the wicked spring as the grass,and when all the workers of iniquity do flourish; it is that they shall be destroyed for ever: But thou, LORD, art most high for evermore. For, lo, thine enemies, O LORD, for, lo, thine enemies shall perish;all the workers of iniquity shall be scattered.

O Lord, how great Thy works in glory blaze!

Thy thoughts profound outshine the sun’s own rays.

The brutish heart no sacred wonder knows,

Nor fool discerns where Thy deep wisdom flows.

When evil seems to flourish all around,

And wicked men spring forth as grass unbound,

When workers of iniquity take wing

In fleeting bloom and boast they cannot fall—

Take heart, believer! Hear the sovereign call:

God sees it all and thunders, “Nope!”—their root

Is cut beneath His hand, their doom assured.

But Thou, O Lord, art high forevermore,

Exalted far above all time’s short shore.

Lo, Thine enemies, O God, shall fall and fade;

Thine enemies shall perish, unarrayed.

All who work iniquity take flight,

Scattered like chaff before the whirlwind’s might.

Thy throne stands firm, Thy justice reigns alone—

While evil’s pride is swiftly overthrown.

Stand fast, believer: though the darkness swell,

The Lord has spoken—evil shall not prevail.

The Laodicean Heart: Rejecting the Love of Money, the Demonic Prosperity Gospel, and Returning to First Love by Debbie Harris

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From the Poet

Dear Reader,

This poem is born from the urgent warning of Revelation 3 and the piercing insight of John W. Ritenbaugh: we have too often traded the pure nourishment of God’s Word for the world’s spiritual junk food. The love of money — not money itself — is the subtle root that feeds Laodicean complacency. True wealth can be a powerful tool in the hands of a faithful steward who uses it for the glory of our Triune God: feeding the hungry, supporting the gospel, and advancing His kingdom.

But the prosperity gospel is a demonic perversion — another gospel that the Apostle Paul warned must be accursed. It dresses greed in the language of faith, promises earthly crowns while robbing souls of the Cross, and leaves multitudes wretched, poor, blind, and naked while they feel rich.

If you have drifted into lukewarmness, hear Christ knocking today. Repent, return to your first love, and serve Him wholly — whether in abundance or in need. He remains faithful; His security for His own is sure. Let this be your awakening, not your condemnation.

May the Great Physician heal what the love of mammon has wounded.

In His service,

The Poet

We sipped the world’s sweet wine at ease,

And called the vintage rich and fine;

Our tables groaned with gilded feasts,

Yet starved the soul of bread and vine.

The love of money whispered low,

A golden calf in velvet guise;

Not money, but the lust for more—

This root of evils blinds our eyes.

One may possess great wealth with grace,

And steward all for Triune God—

To feed the poor, advance His work,

And spread the truth where feet have trod.

Yet false prophets arose and lied,

A demonic gospel, slick and bright:

“Faith brings wealth and health and ease—

Your best life now, by seed and sight!”

This wicked twist, this twisted word,

A false “gospel” born in hell’s own fire,

Feeds Laodicean hearts with lies,

Promising crowns while souls expire.

“No need of Thee,” our ledgers claimed,

As barns o’erflowed and hearts grew cold;

We bowed before prosperity’s throne,

And worshiped what our hands had framed.

No thunder shook the cushioned pew,

No altar flame demanded all;

We drifted soft on lukewarm seas,

Content to heed the siren’s call.

“Rich, increased,” the mirror lied,

In garments bright and eyes half-blind;

We judged our strength by what we owned,

While cancer gnawed the hidden mind.

The love of riches, deep and sly,

Spread tentacles through thought and deed;

It choked the Word, it quenched the cry,

And turned our zeal to withered seed.

Two masters called, we tried to serve

The self and God with equal art—

But hearts divided rot and split,

And scatter like dry leaves apart.

O wretched, naked, poor, and blind,

Though gold we clutched with fevered fist,

The Great Physician stands outside;

He knocks through every storm and trial—

“Repent, and let Me come inside.”

Arise, O Laodicean soul! Reject the lie of mammon’s priests,

Cling to the Cross—be hot, not least!

A Quiet Word to the Seeking Soul: Reflections on the Fear of the Lord and the Holy Hatred of Evil, Drawn from Proverbs 8:13 by Debbie Harris

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Dear Reader,

I greet you with a quiet heart as you pause here before these lines. The verse from Proverbs 8:13 has long stirred my spirit: “The fear of the LORD is to hate evil: pride, and arrogancy, and the evil way, and the froward mouth, do I hate.” In a world that often celebrates self-exaltation and clever speech, these words cut through like a clear blade. True wisdom, I have come to believe, begins not in soft tolerance of sin but in a holy and decisive hatred of what God Himself hates.

This note is for the quiet seeker—the one weary of empty pride, tired of crooked paths, and longing for a reverence that purifies rather than merely comforts. May these reflections, born from meditation on Scripture, help kindle in you that same godly fear: a fear that does not cower but stands upright, rejecting arrogance so that humility may flourish, and turning from perverse words so that truth may dwell freely in the soul.

Read slowly. Reflect deeply. And may the Lord grant you wisdom that is first pure, then peaceable, and altogether lovely in His sight.

With reverence and goodwill,

The Poet

Proverbs 8:13 (KJV)

The fear of the LORD is to hate evil: pride, and arrogancy, and the evil way, and the froward mouth, do I hate.

A Classical Rhyme Poem: Wisdom’s Holy Hate

In reverent awe where wisdom’s voice doth call,

The fear of God shines forth as heaven’s light;

To loathe all evil is its sacred thrall,

And turn the soul from shadows of the night.

Pride, that vain serpent coiled in mortal breast,

With arrogancy swelling like the sea,

The crooked path where tempters lure to rest,

And froward lips that speak iniquity—

These doth the righteous heart with fervor spurn,

As holy fire consumes the dross away.

No gilded boast, no haughty glance shall burn,

Nor twisting words lead wanderers astray.

O soul, embrace this fear, both pure and wise,

That hates the dark yet loves the dawning skies;

For in such hatred, true devotion lies,

And heaven’s gate before thee open flies.

Pride’s Golden Chain and Violence’s Blood-Red Cloak: A Meditation on the Prosperous Wicked in Psalm 73 by Debbie Harris

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A Modern Classical Poem on Psalm 73:6 with Contemporary Examples)

Dear Reader,

From the Poet —

I write these lines not in anger, but in honest wonder, much like Asaph of old. I too have felt my feet slip when I saw the arrogant flourish — their polished feeds, their untouchable empires, their easy smiles while others bleed. The influencers, the CEOs, the activist machines that brand and cancel with clinical precision — they wear pride like designer gold and violence like a tailored suit.

Yet Psalm 73 is not merely a complaint; it is a pilgrimage. It leads us from the screen’s green glow of envy, through the painful sanctuary of truth, and finally into the steady hand of God.

He has the will to stand up for Biblical truth — that rare soul who refuses the chain and rejects the cloak. He speaks when it costs him followers. He refuses the easy donation or the trending hashtag. He chooses Scripture over applause, even when the mob turns its hate-map upon him. In a world that rewards the proud and silences the faithful, such a man is a living rebuke to the wicked’s temporary throne.

My prayer in crafting this poem is simple: that you would see the chains for what they are — glittering, heavy, and temporary — and choose instead the only portion that never rusts. May God raise up many more who have the will to stand.

If these verses sting, let them sting with hope. The same God who steadied Asaph steadies us. The proud will one day stand exposed before truth; the faithful will rise clothed in something far better.

Read slowly. Reflect deeply. And may your heart find its forever home in the One who outlasts every trending throne.

With quiet confidence,

The Poet

Psalm 73 (KJV) – Complete Relevant Verses

1 Truly God is good to Israel, even to such as are of a clean heart.

2 But as for me, my feet were almost gone; my steps had well nigh slipped.

3 For I was envious at the foolish, when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.

4 For there are no bands in their death: but their strength is firm.

5 They are not in trouble as other men; neither are they plagued like other men.

6 Therefore pride compasseth them about as a chain; violence covereth them as a garment.

7 Their eyes stand out with fatness: they have more than heart could wish.

8 They are corrupt, and speak wickedly concerning oppression: they speak loftily.

9 They set their mouth against the heavens, and their tongue walketh through the earth.

10 Therefore his people return hither: and waters of a full cup are wrung out to them.

11 And they say, How doth God know? and is there knowledge in the most High?

12 Behold, these are the ungodly, who prosper in the world; they increase in riches.

13 Verily I have cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocency.

14 For all the day long have I been plagued, and chastened every morning.

15 If I say, I will speak thus; behold, I should offend against the generation of thy children.

16 When I thought to know this, it was too painful for me;

17 Until I went into the sanctuary of God; then understood I their end.

18 Surely thou didst set them in slippery places: thou castedst them down into destruction.

19 How are they brought into desolation, as in a moment! they are utterly consumed with terrors.

20 As a dream when one awaketh; so, O Lord, when thou awakest, thou shalt despise their image.

21 Thus my heart was grieved, and I was pricked in my reins.

22 So foolish was I, and ignorant: I was as a beast before thee.

23 Nevertheless I am continually with thee: thou hast holden me by my right hand.

24 Thou shalt guide me with thy counsel, and afterward receive me to glory.

25 Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee.

26 My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.

27 For, lo, they that are far from thee shall perish: thou hast destroyed all them that go a whoring from thee.

28 But it is good for me to draw near to God: I have put my trust in the Lord God, that I may declare all thy works.

The Poem

Pride loops around their necks like heavy gold,

a chain of verified checks and blue-tick fame.

The influencer sneers from her filtered throne,

counting the likes that shield her from all blame.

Violence they wear like a designer cloak,

tailored in boardrooms where contracts crush the poor.

The CEO smiles while factories choke,

laying off thousands, then yachting offshore.

The SPLC brands its targets with a seal,

a hate-map chain that glitters in the press;

they weaponize the word, then count the meal—

donations swell while reputations bleed to death.

They scroll their triumphs under neon skies—

the politician tweets his rival’s swift demise,

the online mob that cancels, doxxes, lies,

the activist empire built on fear’s sharp rise.

No crack in conscience mars their polished grin;

they feast on outrage, harvest every tear,

turn sorrow into headlines, loss to spin,

and call it justice when the losers disappear.

Yet some arise with holy fire and will —

they stand for truth when every comfort flees,

refuse the chain, reject the cloak of ill,

and plant their feet on what the Scripture sees.

Though branded, mocked, and stripped of worldly gain,

they hold the Word that never rusts or wanes.

Yet midnight comes. The algorithm stills.

The chain grows tight, the cloak begins to fray.

A quiet room, a failing heart that chills—

the empire’s lights go dark by break of day.

The righteous, stumbling, eyes green with old ache,

still finds a hand that steadies when they fall.

While pride lies rusting, violence stripped and fake,

the faithful rise, possessing all in all.

The Great Inversion: A Lament for These Last Days When Light Is Called Darkness and Good Is Called Evil by Debbie Harris

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Dear Reader,

This poem stands beside the previous one as its companion flame. Where the first confronted the labeling of truth as “hate,” this one unmasks the deeper spiritual reality: a systematic, blasphemous inversion of God’s created order, His moral law, and His very words. It is happening in real time—yet it is not new. It is the spirit of antichrist at work, dressing rebellion in garments of compassion while waging war on the Creator.

Hold fast to the unchanging Scriptures. Speak the truth in stunning love. The inversion will not stand forever.

The Poet

Isaiah 5:20

Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!

2 Timothy 3:1-5

This know also, that in the last days perilous times shall come. For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, Without natural affection, trucebreakers, false accusers, incontinent, fierce, despisers of those that are good, Traitors, heady, highminded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God; Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof: from such turn away.

Romans 1:25-27

Who changed the truth of God into a lie, and worshipped and served the creature more than the Creator, who is blessed for ever. Amen. For this cause God gave them up unto vile affections: for even their women did change the natural use into that which is against nature: And likewise also the men, leaving the natural use of the woman, burned in their lust one toward another; men with men working that which is unseemly, and receiving in themselves that recompence of their error which was meet.

Philippians 2:10-11

That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth; And that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

In these last days the ancient order cracks,

Where light is called dark and the dark called bright;

The serpent’s brood performs its hellish acts,

And crowns the upside-down as path of right.

They hail as “justice” what the Judge condemns,

And dress as “freedom” chains of lust and shame;

They bless the shedding of the unborn’s blood

And name it “choice”—a sacrificial flame.

Male and female, sealed by God’s own hand,

They shatter into Babel’s fractured lies;

They mock the covenant of man and wife

And sanctify what Scripture plainly calls defiled.

“Love thy neighbor,” once a holy blade

To wound with truth and turn the sinner’s feet,

Now twisted to a gag upon the mouth

That dares proclaim repentance is required.

They preach “inclusion” while they cast out Christ,

They chant “diversity” yet silence truth;

They raise the rainbow as their battle flag

Above the very sins that summoned forth the Flood.

Good is now evil, evil wears the crown,

The fear of God is labeled “bigotry”;

The Cross, once glory, now an offense vile,

And martyrs mocked while mockers rule the law.

O blasphemous inversion, hell’s own art—

To steal the words of God and turn them inside out;

To robe the devil in a shepherd’s cloak

And drive the sheep toward the butcher’s blade.

Yet heaven laughs upon its sovereign throne,

The Judge of nations marks each lying tongue;

The Stone the builders scorned in haughty pride

Shall crush the empires where these inversions sung.

The blood of Abel cries from crimson ground,

The blood of Christ still pleads for mercy’s hour;

Though nations rage and churches bow to fear,

The Word of God stands firm, a blazing tower.

Arise, O remnant, purchased by His blood,

Refuse the lie though all the world applauds;

Cling to the narrow way, the old paths trod—

The King returns to judge these great inversions.

Then every knee shall bow, and every tongue

Confess that Jesus Christ is Lord alone;

The inversions shatter like a potter’s shard,

And truth eternal claims its rightful throne.

When Demonic Forces Rise to Define Hate Speech Against the Timeless Truths of Holy Scripture by Debbie Harris

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Dear Reader,

In an age when darkness calls itself light and the ancient foundations are shaken, I offer this poem not as mere verse, but as a cry from the watchman’s tower. It was forged in the tension between two competing loves: the love that weeps for the lost, and the love that refuses to lie to them.

“Love thy neighbor” has been seized and twisted into a weapon against the very truth that can save the neighbor. What Scripture commands as holy warning—repentance, sexual purity, the sanctity of life, the design of male and female—is now branded “hate speech” in courts of law and halls of power. This is no accident of culture; it is a spiritual inversion, demonic in origin and tyrannical in fruit.

Yet the poem is not written in despair. It is written in defiance and in hope. The same Lord who spoke the stars into being still speaks through His Word and His Church. The gates of hell have never prevailed, and they will not prevail now. My prayer is that these lines would stir courage in the faithful, clarity in the confused, and conviction in the silent—that true love does not affirm rebellion, but calls sinners to the Cross where mercy and truth have met.

If these words cost you comfort, influence, or even freedom in the days ahead, count it joy. You stand in good company: the prophets, the apostles, and the One who was crucified for speaking truth in love.

Hold fast. Speak boldly. Love deeply enough to tell the truth.

In Christ, who is the Truth,

The Poet

Isaiah 5:20
Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!
(Core to the demonic redefinition of “hate speech” and inversion of good and evil.)

Leviticus 19:17
Thou shalt not hate thy brother in thine heart: thou shalt in any wise rebuke thy neighbour, and not suffer sin upon him: I am the LORD.
(True “Love thy neighbor” requires warning and rebuke, not affirmation of sin.)

Genesis 1:27
So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them.
(Foundational truth of Eden’s design that the poem defends against modern Babel.)

Matthew 16:18
And I say also unto thee, That thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.
(The triumphant promise that demonic forces will ultimately fail against Christ’s Church.)

Revelation 21:8
But the fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone: which is the second death.
(Revelation’s sobering warning against the very sins being celebrated and protected by the demonic legal and cultural inversion.)

In shadowed halls where ancient truths once shone,

Where prophets spoke with tongues of holy flame,

Now slither forth the demons, undethroned,

Who twist God’s Word to sanctify their shame.

They brand as “hate” the light of Sinai’s Law,

The covenant that guards the marriage bed;

They cry “bigotry” at Eden’s sacred awe—

That man and maid are one, as He first said.

With serpentine decrees and silken lies,

They bind the tongue that dares proclaim the Cross;

They seize “Love thy neighbor” as their prize,

To twist compassion into sin’s embrace.

Yet O the stunning love that will not lie,

A blazing mercy brighter than the sun—

It speaks the truth though tears may fill the eye,

And calls the rebel home where grace has won.

This stunning love rebukes as Jesus did,

With eyes of fire and voice of thunder sweet;

It wounds to heal, it breaks to make anew,

And lays the sinner lowly at His feet.

“Love thy neighbor,” they declaim with glee,

Means celebrate the road that leads to death;

Affirm the lie, suppress the truth, agree

To call rebellion life, and call it breath.

But truest love will speak the warning clear,

As prophets thundered and as Christ proclaimed;

To tell the wand’ring soul of judgment near,

Lest hell devour the ones His blood has claimed.

Love bids us speak the Word though flesh may rage,

Not silence conscience for a hollow peace;

To call repentance in this fleeting age,

And point lost hearts to heaven’s full release.

In courts of law where justice once held sway,

The legal scribes now twist the statutes cold;

They forge new chains from words of common clay

To prosecute the saints for truths of old.

With gavel forged in hell’s own sulfur fire,

They drag the preacher, baker, florist, friend;

They weaponize the bench and twist the wire

Of liberty, the faithful to condemn.

O Babylon reborn in marble halls,

Where Sodom’s rainbow banner waves on high,

The saints are cast as wolves, the wolves enthroned,

And heaven’s voice is labeled “hate” thereby.

They redefine the child within the womb

As worthless tissue, slain without a tear;

They call it progress when the family tomb

Is emptied for the lusts that dominate the year.

They mock the bond of flesh and bone ordained,

Demanding altars raised to stranger gods;

Where “male and female” once in glory reigned,

Now Babel’s tower of invented frauds.

Yet fear not, pilgrim, though the night grows long—

The gates of hell shall never prevail, the Song

Of ages thunders still: “Thus saith the Lord,”

Though demons rage, His truth endures the storm.

Arise, ye faithful, take the shield of faith,

The Spirit’s sword that cleaves the lie in twain;

For He who rose shall vindicate the saints,

And turn their “hate speech” into endless gain.

When empires crumble and their idols break,

When dust reclaims the courts of dust once more,

The Word that spoke the stars shall still awake,

And every knee shall bow—as written before.

Let demons howl and earthly powers decree—

Their reign is brief, a shadow quickly fled.

The Rock of Ages stands eternally;

His Church, though pressed, shall never be unmade.

The Demonic Art of Euphemistic Veils: How Honeyed Words Cloak Sin, Wickedness, and Immorality in the Guise of Virtue by Debbie Harris

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A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

In an age when words are bent and twisted like reeds in the wind, I send forth this poem as a cry from the watchtower. We live in times when the serpent’s ancient tactic has been refined to perfection: no longer does evil storm the gates with horns and fire, but enters softly, cloaked in pleasant phrases, smiling euphemisms, and gentle rebrandings. What the Scriptures once called sin is now paraded as “choice,” “pride,” “love,” or “self-care.” Hell has learned the language of Heaven, and many souls are lulled to sleep by its lullabies.

This verse is no mere literary exercise. It is a battle cry against the demonic alchemy of language—the subtle art that turns murder into medicine, adultery into adventure, and rebellion against the Creator into “authenticity.” I have written in classical rhyme because truth deserves dignity, not the cheap prose of our disordered day. The form itself is a protest: while the world dissolves into formless babble, let rhyme and meter stand as pillars of order.

If these lines sting, it is not out of hatred for the sinner, but out of love for the soul still capable of repentance. Call evil by its rightful name. Refuse the velvet lie. Restore sharp, honest speech to your tongue, for “the truth shall make you free” (John 8:32). Euphemisms comfort the conscience only until Judgment Day, when every soft word will be stripped away and we shall stand naked before the Holy One.

May this poem awaken slumbering consciences, fortify the faithful, and expose the darkness masquerading as light.

With solemn urgency and brotherly concern,

The Poet

Scriptural Foundation (KJV)

Isaiah 5:20

Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!

2 Corinthians 11:13-14

For such are false apostles, deceitful workers, transforming themselves into the apostles of Christ. And no marvel; for Satan himself is transformed into an angel of light.

Ephesians 5:6

Let no man deceive you with vain words: for because of these things cometh the wrath of God upon the children of disobedience.

Proverbs 6:16-19

These six things doth the LORD hate: yea, seven are an abomination unto him: A proud look, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood, An heart that deviseth wicked imaginations, feet that be swift in running to mischief, A false witness that speaketh lies, and he that soweth discord among brethren.

Isaiah 59:13-14

In transgressing and lying against the LORD, and departing away from our God, speaking oppression and revolt, conceiving and uttering from the heart words of falsehood. And judgment is turned away backward, and justice standeth afar off: for truth is fallen in the street, and equity cannot enter.

Matthew 15:8-9

This people draweth nigh unto me with their mouth, and honoureth me with their lips; but their heart is far from me. But in vain they do worship me, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men.

In shadowed halls where serpents softly speak,

A velvet tongue twists truth to tame the bleak.

Euphemisms, like incense sweet and cloy,

Cloak the fiend’s foul breath in bright alloy.

What once was murder dons the mask of “choice,”

And babes unborn are silenced, without voice.

Adultery becomes a harmless “fling,”

While vows lie shattered—souls on broken wing.

Fornication? Merely “exploring love,”

A youthful dance that fits like hand in glove.

Sodomy is “pride,” a rainbow hue,

Defying Nature’s law and God’s own view.

The glutton calls his feast “self-care” refined,

The drunkard sips his “social” cup of wine.

Laziness is “mental health” today,

While sloth devours the hours, wastes away.

Covetousness now wears the name “equity,”

The thief demands his “justice” bold and free.

While honest labor bows beneath the weight

Of guilt and “privilege” — inverted hate.

The liar’s craft is now “narrative spin,”

Or “speaking truth to power” — deadly sin.

False prophets preach “inclusion” from the stage,

While crushing consciences in righteous rage.

Divorce is “self-love,” a brave new start,

Though children’s hearts are torn and ripped apart.

The covenant once sacred, sealed by God,

Is traded for the fleeting, fleshly nod.

Rebellion dresses in “empowerment” bright,

Defying Heaven in the name of “right.”

Man plays the god, re-making moral law,

While demons clap and hell prepares its maw.

“Love is love” the serpent’s slogan cries,

While redefining lust in rainbow guise.

No longer bound by God’s created frame,

It crowns as virtue every burning shame.

“All paths lead up” — the broadest lie of all,

That makes the narrow Way a useless call.

Christ’s blood is mingled with false gods and lies,

While Heaven weeps and hell in triumph sighs.

O demonic art! With words both mild and fair,

You gild the gates of Hell and lead them there.

You blunt the blade of conscience, dull the sting,

Till vice feels virtue, and the damned take wing.

No longer “sin” the scarlet letter brands,

But “lifestyle” welcomed with applauding hands.

The liar spins his “alternative fact” with grace,

The thief takes “reparations” in his place.

Yet in the end, when Judgment’s trumpet sounds,

These pretty phrases turn to chains and bounds.

The euphemist shall stand in naked light,

His sugar-coated lies exposed to sight.

Awake, O mortal! Cast the veil aside,

Call evil evil—let no tongue divide

The truth from falsehood with a silken lie.

For Heaven’s gate demands an honest cry.

Repent the gloss, the soft and soothing phrase,

That paves the road to everlasting blaze.

In plain, hard speech let virtue find her sword—

Euphemism, demon, be forever floored!

The Great Things Which the Lord Hath Done for Us: A Classical Hymn of Joy and Wonder after Psalm 126:3 by Debbie Harris

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A Classical Hymn after Psalm 126:3, Rich in Vivid Imagery

Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

When the Lord restores the captives and turns sorrow into singing, the heart cannot stay silent. This hymn was born in the spirit of Psalm 126:3 — a joyful overflow of gratitude for the mighty acts of God across all ages. I have sought to clothe the wonders of Scripture in vivid, classical imagery so that the soul might see afresh what the eye of faith has always known: the Lord has done great things for us, and we are glad.

May these lines stir your heart to remember His faithfulness, to rejoice in His redemption, and to look with hope toward the even greater things He has yet to do.

With praise and prayer,

The Poet

Psalm 126:3 (KJV)

The LORD hath done great things for us; whereof we are glad.

The Lord hath done great things for us,

And we are glad, exceeding glad!

Our mouths with laughter overflowed like mountain torrents in the spring,

Our tongues were clad in robes of song, in shimmering golden dawn.

When Zion’s captives He restored,

As streams in desert places flow—bright crystal veins through barren sand—

We seemed like dreamers wrapped in midnight’s starry cloak,

Yet saw the Lord’s own glory blaze in radiant, holy fire.

What mighty works His hand hath wrought!

Behold a list of wonders, rich and vast, painted on eternity:

He spake, and light from darkness sprang in blinding blaze of first creation,

The heavens arched like sapphire vaults with stars as diamond choir,

The earth He robed in emerald hills and verdant, rolling glory,

And called each star by its own name in whispers soft as dew.

He cleft the sea with staff of old; waves towered as emerald glass,

And made dry land for Israel’s feet where oceans once held sway.

From Pharaoh’s host He swept the wave in thunderous, foaming wrath,

And drowned the proud beneath a crimson, churning, watery grave.

He fed the host with manna white like frost-kissed pearls from heaven’s store,

And drew sweet water from the flint in sparkling silver streams.

He stayed the sun in Joshua’s day—a blazing orb hung still—

Till victory o’er the foe was won beneath an endless golden light.

He raised the dead with thund’rous voice, gave sight to eyes long blind,

Made lame to leap like mountain deer, and dumb to sing like larks at dawn.

The leper shone in snow-white peace, the tempest bowed in calm,

And water turned to ruby wine at wedding feasts beneath the vines.

He bore our griefs upon the tree—a blood-red cross against the sky—

The Just One suffered there for us: the Righteous died for sinners lost,

The Holy One for the unjust throng, the sinless Lamb for guilty ones.

From death’s dark tomb He rose again in robes of dazzling morning light,

And broke the ancient bars of rust where shadows fled like startled ravens.

He sent His Spirit, tongues of fire like living crowns of flame,

On waiting hearts in upper room where heaven’s glory poured like gold.

He built His Church on rock secure, a beacon through the gale-swept night,

And filled the world with Gospel bloom in colours pure as rainbow rain.

He turns our mourning into dance, our sackcloth into robes of gold,

He fills the barren womb with life like desert rose in sudden bloom,

And bids the hopeless heart rejoice in fountains of unending joy.

He guides the pilgrim through death’s vale where shadows whisper fear,

Protects the widow with angel wings like falling drifts of snow,

Shields little children in His arms, lifts poor ones from the dust,

And seats them with the reconciled in heaven’s warm eternal home.

The Lord hath done great things for us—

Creation’s dawn in fiery birth, redemption’s crimson flood,

Mercy like endless oceans deep, and grace like living crystal streams!

Our hearts are filled, our eyes run o’er with tears of diamond joy,

We praise Him where heaven kisses earth in this most holy place.

O come, ye people, join the song, let every tongue His name adore,

For He who wrought these wonders vast shall do still greater things—and more!

Glory to the Father, and to the Son,

And to the Holy Ghost, ever One.

As it was in the beginning, is now,

And ever shall be, world without end. Amen.