Rise, O Patriots! A Thunderous Cry Against Godless Marxists Who Hate America and Mock the Cross – In Praise of Leaders Like Trump by Debbie Harris

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This lengthy classical rhyming poem is a passionate, fiery patriotic and Christian anthem that sharply contrasts two visions of American leadership and national destiny.

Core Themes and Structure:

  • It begins by celebrating true patriots who deeply love America, her freedoms, the flag, and the Christian faith centered on Jesus Christ as Savior. These are depicted as eagles and lions—strong, protective, and unyielding.
  • It unleashes intense disgust and righteous anger toward “compromised,” “godless,” and “Marxist” Democratic leaders (described as wolves in activist clothing, greedy traitors, serpents, and Judases). They are accused of hating America, mocking Jesus Christ and the Cross, betraying the nation, sowing division, and dismantling liberty for personal power and foreign ideologies.
  • The poem calls for burning through their lies with flames of truth and holy fire, exposing their “wicked,” “traitorous,” “black” hearts in vivid, merciless detail—no mercy is shown to these “vipers” and “wolves.”
  • It invokes Jesus Christ directly as the Light, Fortress, Shield, Sword, and ultimate Judge, pleading for heavenly fire and justice to consume the deceivers and reveal their sin.
  • In triumphant contrast, it praises leaders like Trump as a bold, fearless exemplar: a lionhearted fighter who defies elites, battles the “swamp,” rallies the people, defends the flag and the cross, and stands with unbreakable will and golden resolve.
  • The people (“we the faithful remnant”) are urged to rise with thunderous voices, stand unbowed, proclaim victory in Christ and country, and cast aside the traitors forever.
  • It closes on a note of hopeful triumph: America will rise from the ashes of treachery, justice will prevail, and true leaders who love both God and nation will endure—in the mighty name of Jesus.

Overall Tone and Purpose:
The poem is unapologetically militant, revivalist, and prophetic—blending Old Testament-style condemnation of evil with New Testament calls to faith and battle-hymn energy. It serves as both a scathing denunciation of perceived enemies and an inspiring call to arms for conservative, Christian patriots, positioning figures like Trump as divinely aligned defenders of faith, freedom, and America.

In essence: A holy war cry in verse—condemning godless betrayal, exalting Christ-centered patriotism, and raising the banner for Trump-like leadership to restore the republic

In halls where freedom’s banner waves so high,
True patriots rise, with hearts that never lie.
They cherish the land of the brave and the free,
Where stars and stripes dance eternally.

Not those who cloak in shadows of deceit,
With words of division, sowing discord’s heat.
Greedy and godless, calloused, immoral core,
They twist the truth to plant the bitter war.

Most are Marxist wolves in activist guise,
Posing as saviors while freedom slowly dies.
They spit on the flag, that red, white, and blue,
And mock our dear Savior, the Holy and True.

Compromised leaders, their souls a black stain,
Hating America, chilling her veins.
With venomous tongues they dismantle the dream,
Of liberty’s light, where faith’s rivers stream.

But we the people, in unity we stand,
Demanding true leaders with a loving hand.
Like eagles soaring o’er the mountain’s crest,
They guard our home, putting nation first and best.

No chains of ideology, no foreign thrall,
Just love for our country, answering the call.
Leaders like Trump, with fire and with might,
Defying the elite, igniting the fight.

From boardrooms to ballots, he strides unafraid,
Rallying the masses where true voices are raised.
Like lions he roars for the cross and the flag,
Unbowed by the storm, refusing to lag.
With golden resolve and unbreakable will,
He battles the swamp, stands towering still.

In flames of truth, we burn through their lies,
Exposing the veil where deception resides.
Their traitorous hearts, so wicked and black,
Pulsing with venom, no virtue intact.

Like serpents in Eden, they coil and they hiss,
Betraying the faithful, sealing doom with a kiss.
No love for the Savior, no honor for kin,
Just greed’s hollow echo where shadows begin.

O Savior, our Light, in Your glory we call,
Pierce through the darkness where traitors enthrall.
No more shall we whisper—Your name we proclaim,
Burning their falsehoods in Your holy flame!

Their wicked hearts quiver, exposed to Your gaze,
No mask can conceal their rebellious malaise.
They scorned Your cross, they mocked Your pure grace,
Now feel the inferno of righteous disgrace.

O Jesus, our Fortress, our Shield, and our Sword,
Unleash heaven’s fire on the foes of the Lord.
Reveal every serpent, every Judas within,
Let truth like a tempest consume all their sin.

We rise like the prophets, with thunderous cry,
Demanding true leaders who never deny—
The love for our nation, the grace from above,
Like eagles defending with unyielding love.

No mercy for wolves in the sheep’s humble guise,
Who despise our freedoms and heavenly ties.
In eternal disdain, we cast them aside,
For God and for country, our banners held high!

We stand in Your promise, unbowed and unafraid,
For America kneels where Your banner is raised.
No compromise lingers, no traitor prevails—
In Your mighty name, their empire now fails!

Rise up, O believers, with voices like thunder,
The Savior is coming—His justice no longer asunder.
Through lies they are ashes, their treachery dust,
In Christ and in country, we triumph, we trust!

In rhyme of old, this anthem we declare:
America rises, beyond their despair!
For leaders like Trump, we stake our sacred claim—
With fire, with faith, in the Savior’s great name!

Hearts Enthroned by Grace: The King of Kings Makes Every Humble Man, Woman, and Child a Prince, Princess, Queen, or King in His Sight by Debbie Harris

A man, woman, or child with Christ in their heart is like a king, queen, prince, or princess; without Christ, they are a pauper — regardless of earthly status or wealth.

With Christ within the heart, though man be born
In low estate, he wears a crown unseen;
The woman shines as queen, though robes be torn,
The child a prince where royal blood runs clean.
No palace walls, no sceptre forged of gold,
Yet majesty attends their every breath;
In humble clay the King of kings takes hold,
And turns the dust to life that conquers death.

But absent Christ, though wealth and pomp abound,
The soul remains a pauper, starved and bare;
The richest king upon his throne is bound
In rags of spirit, wandering despair.
So let the heart receive its rightful Guest—
Then pauper, prince, and beggar rise as kings.

He Sat Down: The Finished Work That Quiets the Heart and Reveals the Father’s Smile Toward Every Sinner by Debbie Harris

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The poem He Sat Down: The Finished Work That Quiets the Heart and Reveals the Father’s Smile Toward Every Sinner is a classical rhymed meditation in seven stanzas, rooted in Hebrews 1:1–3 (KJV) and supporting Scriptures. It traces God’s progressive revelation and culminates in the believer’s assurance through Christ’s completed work.

Summary by stanza:

  1. In the past, God spoke in fragmented, shadowy ways through prophets—partial glimpses delivered in riddles and types across time.
  2. Now, in these final days, God has spoken fully and decisively through His Son—no longer in pieces, but in perfect clarity, awakening the true heart of the Father.
  3. The Son is the heir of all creation, the radiant brightness of God’s glory, the exact image of His nature—the One in whom divine majesty is fully expressed.
  4. Christ offered Himself once to purge sinners’ guilt, then sat down at God’s right hand—a completed act that ends the endless labor of old-covenant priests and opens the way for every soul to find its true purpose and rest in Him.
  5. No changing emotion or painful circumstance can overshadow the unchanging truth of Christ’s finished work: the Father looks upon the believer with mercy, love, and tender care, seen clearly in Jesus.
  6. The same mighty hand and powerful word that uphold the stars and sustain the universe are the same that drew the distant sinner near and continue to uphold the weary soul with unbreakable strength.
  7. Therefore the doubting heart should cease wandering in despair or judging God’s grace by present suffering; instead, it should look once to Jesus, behold the Father plainly revealed, and rest forever in Him as its true and eternal home.

Overall message (in one sentence):
Through the full revelation of God in His Son—who created, redeemed, sat down in triumph, and upholds all things—the poem comforts the doubting or weary soul that God is not distant or undecided, but has decisively shown His smiling, merciful face in Christ’s finished work, granting unshakable nearness, rest, and security forever.

God, who at sundry times and in divers manners spake in time past unto the fathers by the prophets, Hath in these last days spoken unto us by his Son, whom he hath appointed heir of all things, by whom also he made the worlds; Who being the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person, and upholding all things by the word of his power, when he had by himself purged our sins, sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on high.
— Hebrews 1:1–3 (KJV)

Jesus saith unto him, Have I been so long time with you, and yet hast thou not known me, Philip? he that hath seen me hath seen the Father; and how sayest thou then, Shew us the Father?
— John 14:9 (KJV)

Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
— Matthew 11:28 (KJV)

And Jesus, moved with compassion, put forth his hand, and touched him, and saith unto him, I will; be thou clean.
— Mark 1:41 (KJV)

But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.
— Romans 5:8 (KJV)

But this man, after he had offered one sacrifice for sins for ever, sat down on the right hand of God.
— Hebrews 10:12 (KJV)

For by one offering he hath perfected for ever them that are sanctified.
— Hebrews 10:14 (KJV)

But now in Christ Jesus ye who sometimes were far off are made nigh by the blood of Christ.
— Ephesians 2:13 (KJV)

And he is before all things, and by him all things consist.
— Colossians 1:17 (KJV)

When Jesus therefore had received the vinegar, he said, It is finished: and he bowed his head, and gave up the ghost.
— John 19:30 (KJV)

Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.
— Philippians 1:6 (KJV)

In ages past, through shadowed word and sign,
God spoke in fragments, veiled in type and dream;
By prophet’s voice, in riddle and in gleam,
He whispered faintly down the line of time.

But now, in these last days, the silence breaks—
No partial echo, no divided ray,
But full and final comes the perfect day:
The Son Himself the Father’s heart awakes.

Heir of all worlds, through whom creation springs,
The very radiance of the unseen throne,
The exact impress, bearing God alone—
In Him the Eternal Majesty sings.

He purged our guilt, then sat in kingly rest,
No more to stand where priests in shadows toiled;
One offering—complete—the curse recoiled,
And sinners find in Him their souls’ true quest.

No fickle feeling, no dark circumstance
Can dim the truth His finished work declares:
The Father’s gaze is mercy, love, and care—
In Christ we see the smile of Providence.

The hand that holds the stars in ordered flight,
The word that keeps the boundless heavens spun,
Is He who drew us near when we had none—
Our souls upheld by His unyielding might.

So let the weary heart no longer roam
In doubt’s cold mist, nor measure grace by pain;
Look once to Jesus—see the Father plain—
And find in Him your everlasting home.

Sons and Daughters of the King: Our Identity in Christ by Debbie Harris

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Sons and Daughters of the King: Our Identity in Christ:

This classical-style devotional poem is a tender, awe-filled reminder to believers of the breathtaking privileges and new identity bestowed upon us through salvation in Jesus Christ our Lord. It calls the soul to awaken from any sense of lowliness or forgetfulness and to marvel at what grace has accomplished.

The poem unfolds as a gentle yet majestic declaration:

  • We are no longer strangers or wanderers in darkness but adopted children of the Father, crying “Abba” by His Spirit.
  • We are joint-heirs with Christ, sharing His divine inheritance—not by our merit, but by His blood and resurrection.
  • We are a new creation, clothed in Christ’s righteousness, with the old life of sin forever gone.
  • We bear exalted biblical names: chosen, royal priesthood, holy nation, peculiar treasure, beloved saints, friends of Christ, ambassadors, members of His body, more than conquerors—all sealed and secured by His wounds and love.

The heart of the poem is the profound privilege of sonship and daughtership in the household of the King of kings: invited to His table, crowned with mercy, welcomed forever as royalty on earth. Yet this honor is never cause for pride—it is ground for humble wonder, gratitude, and worship.

The closing exhortation is simple and stirring: rejoice in this truth, live from this glorious birthright given by grace alone through faith in Christ, and go forth reflecting the splendor of being His dearly loved sons and daughters.

In essence, the poem is a lyrical love letter to believers: “You are already royalty, already family, already heirs—because the King has made you so. Rest in it. Rejoice in it. Proclaim it with humble joy.

John 1:12 (KJV)
But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name:

Romans 8:14-17 (KJV)
For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God. For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father. The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God: And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together.

Galatians 4:6-7 (KJV)
And because ye are sons, God hath sent forth the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying, Abba, Father. Wherefore thou art no more a servant, but a son; and if a son, then an heir of God through Christ.

1 Peter 2:9 (KJV)
But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light.

O soul, awake from slumber’s lowly dream,
Behold what grace hath wrought in thee through Him—
The King of kings, who left His throne supreme,
To claim thee lost, and bid thee call Him kin.

No more a stranger, wandering in the night,
But child adopted by the Father’s love;
His Spirit whispers, “Abba,” in thy sight,
And seals thee heir to mansions far above.

Joint-heir with Christ, the Firstborn from the dead,
Thou sharest His inheritance divine—
Not earned by works, but by the blood He shed,
An endless portion, royal, pure, and thine.

A chosen one, elect before the dawn,
A new creation, old things passed away;
The former rags of sin forever gone,
In robes of righteousness thou stand’st today.

Royal priesthood, offering praise on high,
Holy nation, set apart for heaven’s call;
A peculiar treasure ‘neath His watchful eye,
His own possession—loved beyond recall.

Beloved saint, and friend of Christ the Lord,
Ambassador of peace in realms of strife;
Member of His body, by His wounds restored,
More than conqueror through Him who gives thee life.

What privilege sublime, what honor vast,
To bear the name of son, of daughter dear!
The King of glory bids thee to His feast,
And crowns thy head with mercy year by year.

Then lift thy voice in wonder, not in pride:
“By grace alone, through faith in Christ our Lord,
I am His child, His heir, His spotless bride—
Forever welcomed at my Father’s board.”

Rejoice, O believer, in this truth profound:
The King hath made thee royalty on earth,
Not for thy merit, but His love unbound—
Go forth and live the glory of thy birth!

Royal by His Wounds, Holy by His Call: A Priesthood Proclaiming the Glories of the Lamb’s Eternal Light by Debbie Harris

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Royal by His Wounds, Holy by His Call: A Priesthood Proclaiming the Glories of the Lamb’s Eternal Light:

The poem is a lyrical, Christ-centered meditation on 1 Peter 2:9 (KJV), celebrating the transformed identity of believers as a chosen generation, royal priesthood, holy nation, and peculiar people.

It begins in the darkness of sin, where humanity was once enslaved, and describes God’s sovereign, gracious call through Christ’s incarnate love and sacrificial death on the cross. The torn veil and broken body of Jesus grant believers direct access to God, drawing them near to His heart.

The central stanzas proclaim the present reality of this new identity: believers are not self-crowned but robed in Christ’s righteousness, made royal by His wounds, holy by His call, and treasured as His own possession—engraved on His wounded side. This exalted standing is entirely by grace, not merit.

The poem contrasts the old life of striving and defeat with the finished work of the cross (“It is finished”), which makes believers heirs who now live in humble trust and quiet confidence in Christ’s royal life.

The closing call is one of reverent awe: lift your eyes, not in pride but in worship of Christ alone. His marvelous light exalts believers to royal height on earth—not to reign independently, but to reflect His glory. The purpose of this identity is single and clear: to proclaim evermore the excellencies and praises of Him—the Lamb—who called us out of darkness into His eternal, marvelous light.

Through trials and triumphs, believers become living ambassadors, bearing His praises like a sacred flame, all for the glory of Jesus Christ, the true King and Light.

In essence, the poem is a worshipful hymn that exalts Christ’s cross and call as the sole source of our royal priesthood, urging believers to live in humble, awe-filled proclamation of His glories rather than self-exaltation.

But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light. (1 Peter 2:9 KJV)

In shadowed vales where sin’s deep midnight reigned,
A sovereign call shattered the gloom’s despair—
Not ours the spark, but His, who rent the air
With love incarnate, bleeding, unrestrained.

No merit ours, no veil we tore apart;
The temple curtain split by nail-scarred grace,
His body broken opened heaven’s face—
We, once afar, now near His beating heart.

Behold, a royal priesthood stands arrayed,
Not crowned by self, but by the thorn-crowned King;
In robes of righteousness His blood doth bring,
Each soul a vessel where His light is stayed.

A holy nation forged in crimson flood,
A people His, possessed by boundless love;
Chosen not for worth, but mercy from above,
Engraved forever on His wounded side.

From chains of night, where death and darkness strove,
He summoned us—His voice, the living Word—
Into the splendor of His light outpoured,
Where glory shines in Him whom we adore.

No striving now to seize what grace has given;
The cross declares: “It is finished,” complete.
We rise as heirs where once we lay in defeat—
In humble trust, His royal life we live.

So lift the gaze, let reverent splendor gleam:
Not pride in self, but awe at Christ alone—
His excellence our song, His light, our royal height,
Proclaiming evermore: “The Light is His!”

Through every storm, in triumph or in pain,
We bear His praises like a sacred flame—
Chosen in Christ, royal by His great name,
Ambassadors of His eternal reign.

The Wondrous Exchange of the Cross: Self Slain, Christ Exalted, All for His Eternal Praise by Debbie Harris

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The poem celebrates the believer’s union with Christ in His death: the true Christian reckons themselves crucified with Him, so the old self dies and all personal ambitions end. From then on, life has one purpose—to live solely for the glory of Christ. Through this “wondrous exchange,” self is slain, Christ is exalted, and every thought, deed, and breath proclaims His eternal praise.

In shadowed hour when Christ gave up His breath,
The true-hearted soul counts its own life slain—
Dead with the Lord who conquered sin and death,
No longer bound to earth’s self-seeking chain.

We judge ourselves as crucified that day,
When nails and spear His holy body tore;
The old man buried in the tomb’s cold clay,
Alive no more to chase what was before.

Henceforth the heart, once captive to its will,
Feels heaven’s constraint: no other aim shall rise.
Not gold, nor fame, nor fleshly passions fill
The purpose now—to glorify the skies.

For Him who died and rose, our lives we yield,
A living sacrifice, redeemed by grace;
In every breath, in every battlefield,
We live for Christ’s eternal, matchless face.

O wondrous exchange! From death to life we spring,
No longer ours, but wholly His to claim;
Let every thought, each deed, each offering
Proclaim the glory of the Savior’s name.

Wings of Unmeasured Grace: An Ode Celebrating the Mercy That Is Infinite as the Eternal One Who Bestows It by Debbie Harris

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Summary of the Poem
Wings of Unmeasured Grace: An Ode Celebrating the Mercy That Is Infinite as the Eternal One Who Bestows It

The poem is a classical ode that exalts the infinite, boundless nature of God’s mercy, directly inspired by Charles Spurgeon’s assertion that “there is nothing little in God; His mercy is like Himself; it is infinite. You cannot measure it.”

Key themes and progression:

  1. Mercy as an immense, uncontainable force
    It is portrayed not as a small or limited gift, but as a vast, fathomless ocean with no shores—endlessly surging, rising higher than human pride or sin, and ultimately overwhelming the soul in grace.
  2. Cosmic and natural grandeur
    The poet draws on majestic images of the sky (an unmeasurable firmament scattering starlight), ancient forests (ever-green mercy walking among shadows), and the dawn (gilding broken hearts after endless night) to illustrate that God’s pity is as expansive and enduring as creation itself.
  3. Triumph over human limitation
    No sin is too deep, no time too long, no guilt too great to be barred from this mercy. It pardons the unnameable, lifts the beggar, and crowns the unworthy.
  4. Divine infinity as the source
    The mercy flows directly from God’s own infinite nature—the Eternal Mind, the boundless breast—making it impossible for human tools (calipers, gauges, compasses) to measure or contain it.
  5. Liberation and rest
    The poem closes in joyful surrender: by launching into this “boundless deep,” the soul discovers true freedom. God’s mercy embraces worlds, redeems the lost, and invites every weary wanderer into eternal rest.

In essence, the ode is a lyrical celebration and meditation: God’s mercy is not a measured handout but a living, radiant, ever-rising reality—coextensive with His own being—vast enough to swallow every darkness and gentle enough to bear the soul on wings forever.

No petty stream this mercy flows,
But ocean fathomless and wide,
Where horizons melt in liquid gold
And every wave is mercy’s tide.

No shore confines its restless surge;
It breaks on cliffs of human pride,
Yet rises higher, ever higher,
To drown the soul in grace allied.

Behold the vaulted firmament—
No caliper can span its dome—
So vast His pity, star by star
It scatters light through heaven’s gloam.

The ancient cedars bow their heads
In forests deep where shadows play,
Yet mercy walks the mossy floor,
A living green that knows no decay.

Like sunrise born of endless night,
It gilds the ruined heart anew;
No chain of sin, no length of years,
Can bar its entrance, bright and true.

Infinite as the Eternal Mind
From whence all being springs and sings,
It pardons depths we dare not name
And crowns the beggar with its wings.

O Thou whose mercy mocks our gauge,
Whose compass none can hold or see,
We launch into Thy boundless deep—
And find ourselves forever free.

In Thee, O God, no littleness dwells;
Thy mercy, vast as Thine own breast,
Embraces worlds, redeems the lost,
And bids the weary wanderer rest.

Blessed Is the Man or Woman Who Walketh Not in the Counsel of the Ungodly by Debbie Harris

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Psalm 1 (KJV)

1 Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.
2 But his delight is in the law of the LORD; and in his law doth he meditate day and night.
3 And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.
4 The ungodly are not so: but are like the chaff which the wind driveth away.
5 Therefore the ungodly shall not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous.
6 For the LORD knoweth the way of the righteous: but the way of the ungodly shall perish.

O happy soul, whose feet decline
The counsel of the impious throng,
Who shuns the sinners’ path malign,
Nor joins the scoffers’ mocking song—
Not walking where the wicked lead,
Nor standing firm in vice’s way,
Nor seated where contempt is bred,
In scornful ease to spend the day.

But in the sacred law divine
His chief delight is ever found;
There day and night his thoughts entwine,
In meditation deep and profound.
Like some fair tree by rivers set,
Whose roots drink deep the ceaseless stream,
In season ripe its fruit is met,
Its verdant leaf no withering dream.

Whate’er he doth shall prosper well,
No drought shall parch, no storm prevail;
His boughs in fruitful beauty swell,
His greenness shall forever hail.
Not so the wicked—light as chaff
They whirl before the wind’s fierce breath;
No root, no weight, no stable staff,
They scatter to the realms of death.

The ungodly shall not stand the test
When judgment’s awful hour is come;
Nor sinners join the righteous blest
In God’s eternal, holy home.
For God beholds the righteous path,
And guards it with His watchful eye;
But they who tread the way of wrath
Shall perish, lost eternally.

The Faithful Covering: From Pitch-Sealed Arks to the Blood-Sealed Soul by Debbie Harris

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We are not left to hold ourselves together by willpower, discipline, or personal stability. Through Christ’s finished work on the cross, God actively sustains us—inside and out—amid life’s storms, overwhelming seasons, emotional waves, or faith-stretching trials. We are not barely afloat; we are covered, cherished, and held in His unfailing grace.

In ancient days when judgment fell like rain,
A righteous man received the Lord’s command:
“Build thee an ark of gopher, strong and plain,
And pitch it round with bitumen’s dark hand.”
Inside and out the thick black seal was laid,
No drop could breach what God Himself designed;
Through forty nights the deluge roared and swayed,
Yet safety held where grace and pitch combined.

Then came a mother, heart in anguish torn,
Who wove a fragile boat of reed and slime,
And daubed it well with pitch from dusk till morn,
To guard her child from Pharaoh’s cruel crime.
Upon the Nile the little ark was set,
A basket borne through waters wild and deep;
The covering kept the infant safe from threat,
Till Pharaoh’s daughter drew him from his sleep.

Two vessels small, yet echoing one theme:
Not wood’s own strength, nor builder’s skill prevailed,
But God’s provided coat, a faithful dream,
That turned destruction back and life entailed.
The ark through flood, the basket through the stream—
Both sealed by pitch, both shadowed forth the Son,
Whose blood, once shed, redeems us from the dream
Of self-held strength; in Him our all is won.

No longer do we clutch at trembling frame,
Nor fear the rising tide will sweep us under;
In Christ all things cohere, He bears our name,
His finished work our souls in mercy sunder
From wrath’s dark flood. Though waves may crash and roar,
And seasons press with weight we scarce can bear,
The covering holds—eternal, evermore—
For He who pitched the ark is present there.

So breathe, dear soul, when storms assail your peace;
You are not left to drift or fall apart.
The same sure hand that brought deliverance
Now holds you fast within His steadfast heart.
In Christ you stand, not barely kept afloat,
But covered, cherished, whole—forever His.
The pitch of old, the cross of love, the note
Of grace resounding: You are held in bliss.

Closing Prayer

Faithful God,
You who sealed the ark against the flood
and coated the basket on the Nile with Your protecting hand,
thank You for the greater covering we now have in Christ.

His blood, poured out once for all, has sealed us inside and out—
not by our strength, but by Your unfailing grace.
When the waters rise and our hearts tremble,
hold us together in Him.
Let us rest, not in our own frail vessels,
but in the finished work of Your Son.

Breathe Your peace over us today.
Remind us: we are not barely afloat;
we are covered, cherished, and held forever in Your steadfast love.

In the name of Jesus, our true Ark and Covering,
Amen.

In Nomine Diaboli (In the Name of the Devil): The Hellish Satanic Horror and Blasphemy of Woke Ideology – A Litany of Demonic Inversion by Debbie Harris

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Title: In Nomine Diaboli (In the Name of the Devil): The Hellish Satanic Horror and Blasphemy of Woke Ideology – A Litany of Demonic Inversion

Form & Tone: A classical-style rhymed poem (mostly iambic tetrameter/pentameter couplets/quatrains) written as a condemnatory “litany” or prophetic dirge. It uses biblical imagery, apocalyptic language, and sharp satire to portray modern “woke” ideology as a profound spiritual inversion—an ancient evil (Satanic/demonic) masquerading as compassion, justice, and love.

Core Thesis: Woke ideology represents the “Great Inversion”—where good is called evil, truth is punished, natural order is deemed oppressive, and mercy is twisted into cruelty. Its adherents unwittingly (or deliberately) reject Christ’s grace, recite a creed “in the name of the devil,” and embrace self-damnation, making their fate a tragic, freely chosen horror.

Key Themes & Imagery:

  • False gods & resentment: Worship of victimhood wounds over mercy.
  • Linguistic & reality assault: Outlawing simple truths like “he is he” or “she is she”; punishing declarative “is” statements as hate.
  • Medical & moral horror: Blessing surgical mutilation of youth as “care”; gaslighting children to suppress doubt.
  • Public spectacle: Marches demanding total submission; washing hands of consequences like Pilate.
  • Blasphemous parody: Inverting the Cross, tearing temple veils, crowning a pastel golden calf; toasting with a poisoned cup of gall and vinegar (echoing Christ’s crucifixion mockery).
  • Demonic undertone: The ancient Serpent smiles at humanity’s swift re-learning of calling darkness light; pity disguises oldest Evil.
  • Tragic climax: Their souls are so base even Hell recoils; ultimate damnation stems from spurning the loving Holy Savior.

Structure:

  • Builds through vivid stanzas depicting cultural/ideological practices.
  • Peaks in ritual mockery (raising the poisoned cup, saying creed in nomine Diaboli).
  • Ends with a mournful, judgmental close: a “psalm” of wrath disguised as love whose final verse reveals Hell’s reluctant welcome and the tragedy of rejected grace.

Overall Effect: A fierce, sorrowful warning—half lament, half indictment—that woke ideology is not mere politics or error, but a hellish, Satanic blasphemy with eternal stakes: a demonic inversion that leads souls to base damnation through deliberate rejection of divine love.

Beneath the moon of fractured glass they kneel,
Where once was mercy now resentment reigns;
They carve new gods from every wound they feel
And offer up the innocent to chains.

The rainbow banner, rent with prideful tears,
Becomes a noose for those who will not bow;
They shriek of justice while they feed on fears
And outlaw “he is he” or “she is she” somehow.

In lecture halls the air grows thick with hex,
Pronouns sharper than the guillotine’s blade;
The heretic who dares to answer “next?”
Is cancelled, shamed, and digitally flayed.

They bless the surgeon’s knife on tender youth,
Call mutilation “care” with solemn face;
The child who weeps is told to hide the truth—
Doubt is the only unforgiven grace.

O ancient Serpent, thou must smile to see
How swiftly man re-learns the oldest art:
To call the darkness light, the foul decree
Of nature’s order “bigotry of heart”.

They march through streets with icons of the maimed,
Demanding every knee and conscience bend;
Yet when the tide of blood is finally named
They wash their hands and cry “we did defend!”

The temple curtains tear, the altar cracks,
The golden calf now wears a pastel crown;
What once was sin is virtue, virtue lacks—
And upside-down the Cross is handed down.

So they raise the poisoned cup of gall and vinegar,
Toast to the Great Inversion come at last:
Where every boundary, every natural wall
Is deemed oppression—and therefore must be smashed.

In nomine Diaboli, they say their creed,
Believing still they walk in heaven’s gleam;
While we who watch discern with growing dread
The oldest Evil wearing pity’s dream.

Thus ends the psalm of ever-bleeding woke—
A liturgy of wrath disguised as love,
Whose final verse, when all the incense smoke
Has cleared, reads:

Hell gapes wide, yet finds their souls too base—
A tragic choice: they spurned the Savior’s grace.