Gall for Ink and Venom for Cologne: A Classical Rhyme Exposing the Demonic Wickedness of a Woke Press That Inverts God’s Truth by Debbie Harris

31 Sunday May 2026

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The Woke Press

In an age when the ancient warning of Scripture burns with renewed urgency, the modern press has become the chief architect of moral inversion. Once tasked with shining light into darkness, today’s dominant media outlets—driven by ideology over truth—systematically call evil good and good evil. They glorify the destruction of life as “reproductive rights,” cheer chaos and lawlessness as “social justice,” redefine biological reality as oppression, and brand dissent, merit, and tradition as grave sins. This is no mere bias; it is the fulfillment of prophecy.

Verse (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!

In marble halls where truth once held her throne,

A serpent scribes now twist the sacred line;

With gall for ink and venom for cologne,

They crown the night and call the daylight crime.

What Heaven forged as good—the hearth’s firm chain,

The merit earned by sweat and tempered steel—

They brand as curse, as patriarchal stain,

While lauding sloth that turns the soul to meal.

The unborn child, a spark of deathless flame,

They carve from womb and christen “choice” sublime;

The rioter’s torch, the looter’s lawless claim,

They hail as justice, pure and serpentine.

Man is not man, nor woman woman wrought—

They geld the flesh that Nature’s chisel shaped;

“Liberation!” rings for every lusting thought,

While gagging speech that dares defy their tape.

Old borders bleed, ancestral virtues scorned,

The savage crowned, the builder shamed and shorn;

They cheer the mob, the guiltless newly adorned

With sins their sires never dreamed or borne.

Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil—

Thus spake Isaiah in the KJV’s pure fire;

These editorial choirs in priestly guise

Flip Heaven’s scales and nurse the devil’s choir.

Yet Time’s sharp blade shall strip their painted veil,

And History’s ledger, pitiless, decree:

The press that knelt to fashion’s fickle gale

Served not the light—but Hell’s own liturgy.

Thus falls the reign of inverted sacred lore;

The remnant stands; the reckoning draws near,

When truth, unshackled, storms the liar’s door

And wakes the world from this demonic snare.

Abhor That Which Is Evil and Cleave to That Which Is Good by Debbie Harris

31 Sunday May 2026

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A Brief Introduction

In an age that often prizes tolerance above truth and relevance above righteousness, Romans 12:9 calls believers to a higher standard: sincere, undissembled love that fiercely abhors evil and tenaciously cleaves to good. This poem echoes that ancient charge, reminding us that holy hatred of sin—paired with Christlike grace—guards the church, strengthens communities, and preserves godly culture.

Romans 12:9 (KJV) “Let love be without dissimulation. Abhor that which is evil; cleave to that which is good.”

Romans 12:21 (KJV) “Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.”

Ephesians 5:11 (KJV) “And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them.”

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.”

Psalm 97:10 (KJV) “Ye that love the Lord, hate evil: he preserveth the souls of his saints…”

Let love be undissembled, pure and bright,

As dawn’s first ray that brooks no shade of night;

No honeyed tongue that hides a viper’s tooth,

But heart with heart in covenant of truth.

Abhor the evil — loathe it as the grave

Loathes life, as darkness hates the light it craves.

Not mild distaste, nor tolerance’s truce,

Nor relevance that bends the holy use

To fit the fleeting fashions of the age

And make the narrow way seem broad and sage.

With holy hatred scorch the creeping lie,

The lust that turns the temple into sty,

The envy’s gall, the pride that topples thrones,

The greed that gnaws the marrow from men’s bones,

The sloth that chokes the good seed ere it rise,

The wrath that blinds both justice and mercy’s eyes.

Cast out as dross what God has named unclean,

For we are called to abhor, not to convene

With darkness in the name of love or peace —

No compromise where holy wrath must cease.

Thus altars stand, thus cultures are preserved,

When evil is detested and not served.

O cleave to good! As shipwrecked sailor clings

To rock amid the tempest’s furious wings;

As ivy grips the ancient oak in hold,

As magnet leaps to steel with joy untold.

Cleave to the truth that sets the captive free,

To justice robed in pure integrity,

To mercy that forgives yet calls sin sin,

To courage that will die ere it give in.

Thus churches rise, unshaken on the stone,

Not seeker-pleasing, not to trends conformed,

But faithful pillars where the Word is throned,

Unbent by winds however fierce or warm.

Thus communities, like ramparts old and high,

Defy the flood when evil men decry;

Thus cultures flourish, rooted deep in grace,

And nations walk where heaven shows its face.

Awake, O watchers! Lift the trumpet’s blast,

Call out the canker ere the harvest’s past.

With love’s fierce fire and Christ-like tears of grace,

Expose the darkness, occupy the space

Where good must grow. Hate sin, yet love the soul;

Reprove, restore, and make the wounded whole.

For in this balance — love without disguise,

Abhorring evil, scorning compromise,

Rejecting tolerance of what defiles

And relevance that only breeds more wiles —

The image of our Maker shines once more,

And heaven’s pattern treads the earthly floor.

So guard the hearth, the altar, and the line,

Till Christ returns in glory all-divine.

The Kindness of God That Leads to Repentance: A Triumphant Hymn of Total Transformation, Victorious Beauty, and Joyful Holiness by Debbie Harris

31 Sunday May 2026

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A Brief Reflection

It is the kindness of God — not His wrath — that gently draws us to repentance. In that sacred turning, everything changes: our thoughts, our relationships, our capacity to forgive, and even our very definition of beauty. What emerges is a victorious, holy joy that makes walking in holiness a delight rather than a burden. This poem celebrates that beautiful transformation.

Romans 2:4 (KJV)

Or despisest thou the riches of his goodness and forbearance and longsuffering; not knowing that the goodness of God leadeth thee to repentance?

In gentle light where mercy softly gleams,

The Father’s kindness flows like morning streams,

Not wrath’s sharp sword, nor thunder’s dread command,

But love’s warm hand that draws the wandering lamb.

It leads to repentance—O glorious turn!

With one surrendered heart, all things are made new;

Old chains dissolve, fresh heavens break in view,

And every shadowed corner floods with morning’s dew.

Perspectives shift like dawn on shadowed hills,

Where bitterness yields to forgiving wills;

Old grudges fall like leaves in autumn’s breath,

And relational chains give way to life from death.

Grace like a river cleanses every stain,

Mercy restores what pride had sought in vain;

Forgiveness blooms where anger once held sway,

And hearts, once stone, now pulse with heaven’s ray.

Behold! With true repentance, everything is changed—

The soul awakes, the mind is rearranged;

Even our definition of beauty is reborn,

No longer bound to fleeting, fading form.

A brand-new vision of beauty rises bright,

Not worldly gloss, but holy, victorious light;

Where truth and goodness shine in purest ray,

And every noble line points heaven’s way.

In aesthetics pure, a classical delight,

Beauty returns in measured rhyme and light—

The ordered verse, the noble form and tone,

Where truth and goodness in one splendor shone.

No fleeting trend or fractured modern cry,

But timeless echoes lifting soul and eye;

In God’s kind gaze the broken finds repair,

And every changed life breathes celestial air.

What joy unbounded walks in holiness!

Pure feet on holy ground, the soul at rest;

Each step a triumph, every breath a song,

In radiant freedom where the righteous throng.

O soul, receive this kindness while it calls,

Let full repentance adorn thy heart’s true halls;

For in such turning, heaven’s beauty reigns,

And everlasting triumph breaks all chains!

America’s 250th: One Nation Under God by Debbie Harris

30 Saturday May 2026

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Happy 250th Birthday, America! May this poem stir hearts to cherish, defend, and live out the inspired vision of “one nation under God.

In the dawn of two hundred fifty years,

A beacon rises, born of sacred fire—

From thirteen colonies forged in humble tears,

A covenant of liberty, lifting higher.

One Nation Under God, our guiding light,

Through tempests fierce and valleys dark we stand,

United hands that weave the stars so bright,

Defenders of the dream on freedom’s land.

From Lexington’s shot to Yorktown’s glorious stand,

Through Civil War’s divide and unity’s embrace,

We rose as one, by Providence’s hand,

A melting pot of souls in boundless grace.

One Nation Under God, in every prayer we sigh,

Where eagle soars on wings of eagle’s pride,

No chain can bind the spirit soaring high,

In every heart, the flame of hope abides.

Mountains whisper, oceans roar the tale,

Of pioneers who crossed the untamed wild,

Of dreamers building cities that prevail,

With faith as compass, strong and undefiled.

One Nation Under God, from sea to shining sea,

Where justice flows like rivers pure and free,

We lift our voices in sweet harmony,

A chorus echoing eternity.

In fields of amber, factories’ steady hum,

In classrooms bright and battlefields of old,

We honor those who answered freedom’s drum,

Whose sacrifice turned leaden nights to gold.

One Nation Under God, indivisible we claim,

With liberty and justice for us all,

No storm can break this everlasting flame,

No shadow dim the writing on the wall.

Two hundred fifty candles brightly burn,

A quarter-millennium of grace bestowed,

From humble birth to towers that still turn

Toward heaven’s light on every winding road.

One Nation Under God, we pledge anew,

To guard the rights our fathers bled to win,

To love our neighbor, skies forever blue,

And walk in truth where pilgrim feet begin.

Let every child recall the sacred scroll,

The parchment signed in Philadelphia’s hall,

Where “endowed by Creator” blessed each soul,

And governments derived from consent’s call.

One Nation Under God, forevermore we sing,

Through innovation’s spark and courage’s test,

A shining city on the hill we bring,

To light the world and give the weary rest.

In unity we stand, though trials may come,

Diverse in thread yet woven as one cloth,

Under the banner of the risen sun,

We choose the higher path of mercy’s troth.

One Nation Under God, our solemn vow,

To mend, to build, to heal what’s torn apart—

With grateful hearts before His throne we bow,

And recommit the soul, the mind, the heart.

O land of heroes, poets, saints, and kin,

Where opportunity knocks on every door,

May future generations breathe within

The breath of liberty forevermore.

One Nation Under God, we celebrate,

Two hundred fifty years of glory won—

From sea to sea, in every single state,

The triumph of the battle nobly won.

So lift the flag, let anthems ring aloud,

Let fireworks paint the heavens overhead,

Inspire the young, remind the wise and proud:

This covenant of faith is not yet dead.

One Nation Under God, our endless prayer,

Through every age, through joy and through the strife—

We stand as one, a testament so rare,

The greatest chapter in the book of life.

On this two hundred fiftieth blessed morn,

We thank the Almighty for the path we’ve trod,

Renewed in spirit, newly born,

One Nation Under God—forever, one.

Spiritually Curious, Biblically Illiterate: Behold Your Sin, See the Savior’s Love, and Live by Debbie Harris

30 Saturday May 2026

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In shadowed halls where seekers chase false lights,

A restless generation wanders blind;

Spiritually curious through endless nights,

Yet biblically illiterate—lost in mind.

They grasp at crystals, stars, and trending lore,

While Heaven’s Book lies dusty on the shelf;

Foundations crumble that their fathers bore,

The Holy Scriptures, silenced for themselves.

O tragic void! The Rock of Ages spurned,

The Word made flesh rejected in their pride;

They quote the self but never Christ have learned,

Who bled upon the tree for them, and died.

Yet in this darkness gleams the Gospel ray—

“Repent and trust!” the Bible’s trumpet cries;

For Jesus rose, the Stone the builders slay,

And offers living waters from on high.

Behold the Scriptures! Open wide the page,

Where Genesis whispers of the Lamb foretold;

Psalms crown Him King, Isaiah paints His wage—

The suffering Servant, purchased with His gold.

John thunders grace: “In the beginning, He!”

The cross stands tall where wrath and mercy meet;

The tomb is empty—death has lost its key—

Salvation’s door swings wide for sinners’ feet.

Though illiteracy has veiled the ancient flame,

The Holy Bible burns with Christ alone;

No other name, no other way, no claim—

But Jesus saves the broken, makes them whole.

Awake, ye souls! Take up the sacred Book,

Behold your sin in Scripture’s piercing light;

See Christ’s great love—His blood for sinners took—

Repent, believe: a new creation rises bright!

O come and drink! The greatest Story calls:

From dust to glory, death to life anew;

The tragedy dissolves in blood-bought grace—

In Jesus’ name, salvation waits for you.

We Are the Sweet Savour of Christ: The Aroma None Can Hide by Debbie Harris

30 Saturday May 2026

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2 Corinthians 2:15 (KJV)

For we are unto God a sweet savour of Christ, in them that are saved, and in them that are perishing.

We are the fragrance of the Crucified,

A scent no artifice can mask or mend;

What secret altar we have deified

Will through our every motion rise and rend.

Some glory self, and breathe a charnel fume—

Rank pride’s thick incense, lust’s corrupting musk,

Ambition’s reek that fills the narrow room

And leaves the soul a shroud of mortal dusk.

But those who kneel where blood and mercy meet,

Who drink the myrrh of Golgotha’s dark tree,

Become themselves a living incense sweet—

The very breath of heaven’s amnesty.

To some we are the sharp foretaste of death,

A gale that warns the unrepentant soul;

To others, life’s first Eden-scented breath,

The rose of paradise made whole.

O saint, keep pure the censer of thy heart!

Let no strange fire profane the holy flame;

Be thou so steeped in Christ that men, apart

From words, still catch the savour of His Name.

For all earth’s perfumes fade as morning mist,

And every crown dissolves in common dust;

But he who glories in the Saviour’s scars

Shall walk forever wrapped in heaven’s trust.

When time is rent and every veil is torn,

That fragrance shall precede thee to the throne—

Not thine, but His, eternally reborn,

The aroma of the Lamb, and His alone.

Ten Jewels of Redemption: The Fruits of the Holy Spirit Crowned with Humility – Drawing Souls to the Savior Alive Within You by Debbie Harris

29 Friday May 2026

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Dedicated to every sincere follower of Jesus Christ who longs to walk worthy of their calling, bearing the beautiful fruit of the Holy Spirit and reflecting the very likeness of our Savior to a watching world.

In Eden restored where the Spirit breathes life,

Where the heart is the vineyard and Christ is the vine,

Ten virtues unfurl in celestial light,

The jewels of redemption, eternally shine.

Love blazes foremost, a crimson-gold fire,

That consumes every grudge like dry stubble at morn;

It leaps over mountains of malice and ire,

And carries the cross till the veil is reborn.

Joy springs unbounded, a lark in the blue,

A fountain of dawn breaking prison of night;

It sings through the valley where shadows pursue,

And turns every thorn into garlands of light.

Peace rules serene as a sapphire throne,

Unmoved by the thunder that shatters the sky;

It stills the wild sea with a whisper alone,

And bids the heart anchor where tempests pass by.

Patience stands granite, a sentinel tall,

Carved deep by the chisel of suffering’s art;

It drinks the slow cup till the bitter grows small,

And waits for the harvest with unwavering heart.

Kindness descends like soft rain on the plain,

A silver-thread mercy that kisses the dust;

It lifts up the fallen, it heals every stain,

And scatters its blossoms where hearts turn to rust.

Goodness gleams noble, a chalice of sun,

Poured out without measure on just and unjust;

It feeds the poor beggar, it shelters the one

Who wanders in darkness and longs for pure trust.

Faithfulness towers, a beacon of flame,

That pierces the fog on the mariner’s sea;

Unshaken, unswerving, it calls forth His name,

A covenant fortress where souls are set free.

Gentleness treads with the grace of the dove,

A velvet-winged whisper that soothes the wild storm;

It breaks not the reed nor quenches faint love,

But mends every fracture and makes the heart warm.

Self-control captains with sword forged of light,

Reining passions that rear like black stallions untamed;

A garden enclosed where pure order takes flight,

And beauty reigns sovereign, forever unblamed.

Humility last, yet the root and the crown,

A low-lying meadow where heaven draws near;

It bows like the lily when tempests bear down,

And lifts every virtue to glory’s frontier.

These ten are the blocks that the Master employs

To build living temples of radiant grace;

In every true follower His image deploys,

Till pilgrims behold Jesus’ face in their face.

O soul, let them ripen beneath heaven’s gaze,

Till orchards of glory your pathway adorn;

Then souls shall be drawn to their Savior anew,

Beholding His image alive within you.

A Call to Berean Fidelity by Debbie Harris

28 Thursday May 2026

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Just because one walks through hallowed halls,

Where scholars pore o’er ancient tomes and scrolls,

And dons the robe with letters on the walls,

It means not that the living Spirit calls.

For many now with titles proudly stand,

And claim to speak for God with learned tongue;

Yet twist the sacred text with cunning hand,

Exalting self where holy fear is wrung.

The law is for the proud who trust their might,

Who boast in works and human righteousness;

But grace is for the broken, contrite heart—

The wounded soul the Lord alone will bless.

Be like the noble Bereans of old,

Who searched the Scriptures daily, line by line;

Though Paul himself had preached the truth foretold,

They tested all against the Word divine.

No seminary, doctorate, or fame

Can substitute for trembling at His Book;

In this dark age of bold apostate claim,

Cling fast to Scripture—let no teacher crook.

For wolves now dress in academic guise,

With polished speech that flatters itching ears;

They preach a lawless “grace” that never tries

The heart, but leaves the sinner dry of tears.

Test every spirit, every novel word,

Though wrapped in robes of learning, soft and wise;

The law exposes pride, but grace restored

Brings life to those who fall before His eyes.

The humble saint who knows no lofty school

May walk more closely with the risen Lord;

While eloquent deceivers play the fool,

And twist God’s truth into a twisted chord.

Let every heart bow low before the throne,

And search the Scriptures with a holy fear;

The law is for the proud—grace for the broken shown—

In days when blasphemy is proudly near.

For Christ alone is Head of all the Church,

His Word the final, sole authority;

No human title, platform, or research

Replaces “Thus saith God” in purity.

Stand therefore, saints, with lamp and sword in hand,

Unmoved by trends or scholarly applause;

In this last hour, across this troubled land,

Be true to Scripture and to Jesus Christ.

Three Prophets Who Feasted on God’s Word by Debbie Harris

26 Tuesday May 2026

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In the august annals of divine revelation, where the eternal intersects the temporal in moments of awe and trembling, three chosen prophets were summoned to an act of profound ingestion: to consume the very Word of God Himself—an encounter at once visceral and mystical, literal in obedience yet laden with inexhaustible layers of symbolism. Jeremiah, amid the crumbling ruins of Judah and the encroaching specter of Babylonian exile, discovered the oracles of the Lord and inwardly devoured them, declaring them the very joy and rejoicing of his heart even as national catastrophe loomed. Ezekiel, languishing in captivity beside the waters of Chebar, beheld a celestial hand proffering a scroll inscribed with lamentation, mourning, and woe; commanded to eat, he found it sweet as honey upon his tongue, though its message foretold unrelenting judgment upon a rebellious house. Centuries later, on the desolate, wave-beaten isle of Patmos, the beloved apostle John received from a mighty angel a little open book, which proved honeyed in his mouth yet embittered his bowels—a foretaste of both divine glory and the apocalyptic sorrows he must proclaim.

These three sacred episodes unveil a transcendent truth: the Word must first be assimilated into the prophet’s sinews and spirit—transmuted from external scroll to internal fire—before authentic proclamation or faithful living can issue forth. For everyday believers today, this means moving beyond casual reading into deep ingestion through slow, repeated meditation, prayerful internalization, prompt obedience, and expectant acceptance of both sweetness and bitterness. By making Scripture part of our very being, ordinary lives can be kindled with the same “prophet-fire” that sustained Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and John.

What follows is a classical poem in rigorous iambic pentameter and ABAB rhyme, meditating upon these holy instances.

When heaven’s clarion voice pierced mortal night,

Three vessels bowed beneath the Almighty’s hand.

They seized the scroll of truth in burning light

And made God’s very words their soul’s command.

First Jeremiah, crushed by Judah’s fall,

When exile’s gloom enshrouded Zion’s throne,

Found heaven’s oracles and ate them all:

“Thy words became my joy, my heart’s alone.”

No parchment passed his lips, yet deep he fed;

God’s fire blazed within his quaking breast.

Though scourge and scorn assailed his weary head,

He spoke undaunted, bearing heaven’s behest.

Then by Chebar’s banks in captive thrall,

Ezekiel saw a hand stretch forth the roll—

Lamentation, mourning, woe for all,

Yet honey-sweet when taken, whole and full.

“Son of man, consume what thou dost find,”

The sovereign voice compelled with thunderous might.

He ate; the scroll became his flesh and mind,

And forth he strode to warn a stubborn night.

At last on Patmos’ wave-lashed, stony shore,

John took the little open book from heaven’s throne.

“Take, eat,” the angel cried; he asked no more.

Sweet as wild honey in the mouth alone,

Yet bitter gall within his belly burned.

He prophesied anew of nations’ doom,

Of kingdoms crushed where once the mighty spurned

The Lamb who rose triumphant from the tomb.

O pilgrim soul, receive this ancient lore:

God’s word must first be eaten, deep consumed—

Not lightly skimmed along the surface shore,

But wholly taken, sweetened and illumed.

Let it dissolve within thy inmost part

Till prophet-fire ignites thy faltering heart.

Then speak undaunted, whether sweet or sore,

For thus alone is heaven’s message borne.

An Iron Anathema Upon the Bastard Gospels: A Solemn Heroic Ode Against the Pernicious Errors of Moral Relativism, False Tolerance, the Prosperity Heresy, and All Manner of Immorality that Corrupt the Pure Grace of Christ in These Perilous Latter Days by Debbie Harris

26 Tuesday May 2026

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Galatians 1:6-10 (NIV)

⁶ I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting the one who called you to live in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel— ⁷ which is really no gospel at all. Evidently some people are throwing you into confusion and are trying to pervert the gospel of Christ. ⁸ But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach a gospel other than the one we preached to you, let them be under God’s curse! ⁹ As we have already said, so now I say again: If anybody is preaching to you a gospel other than what you accepted, let them be under God’s curse!

¹⁰ Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ.

In Galatia’s sunlit vales where first the pure

Glad tidings rang from Paul’s unyielding tongue,

The heavens shook when swift apostates turned

From grace’s fountain to a gospel dunged

With human pride. “I marvel,” thundered he,

“Ye desert Him who called you into light,

To clutch a phantom gospel, no gospel be,

A twisted shadow born of darkest night.”

So now, in latter days more vile, I raise

This iron song against the creeping blight:

Moral Relativism, that serpent’s praise,

Which melts all truth to mist and calls it right.

“No absolute!” it hisses soft and sweet,

“What thou deem’st vice another holds as bloom;

Thy lust, thy greed, thy wrath—these are complete,

For every man his god, and every tomb

A door to self-made paradise.” Thus dies

The eternal Law, dissolved in vapid air,

While consciences, unanchored, fall and rise

On every fashionable, filthy stair.

Then Tolerance, that painted harlot, comes

In rainbow robes and voice of honeyed lies,

Proclaiming, “Judge not!” till the Church grows dumb

And opens wide her gates to every vice.

“Repentance wounds the soul,” the new priests cry;

“The Cross offends—make broad the narrow Way!”

They crown as sacred what the Scriptures name

Abomination, turning night to day,

Till heaven’s pure light and hell’s just fire seem

But equal shades in tolerance’s dream.

Behold the golden calf of Prosperity!

A gospel fat with promises of ease—

“Sow money, reap dominion, health, and glee;

Thy faith hath failed if suffering thou see.”

They nail the Man of Sorrows to a coin,

Make Calvary a marketplace of gain,

Trade thorns for crowns of plastic, and enjoin

The poor to “name it, claim it” in His name.

The blood that purchased pardon now is sold

For private jets and mansions built on sand;

They feast while Lazarus starves outside the fold,

And call their greed the touch of God’s own hand.

All Immorality now struts arrayed

In robes of “liberation,” bold and bright:

Lust hailed as love, pride as empowerment made,

Wrath as justice, sloth as self-care’s right.

A Christ remade who winks at every chain,

A Spirit soft as down, a Father mild

Who never thunders “Turn!” nor counts the slain

That slide in silken ease to darkness wild.

They preach a bloodless cross, a crownless King,

A gospel shorn of power to save or kill—

And bid the nations dance and clap and sing

While souls descend the broad and pleasant hill.

Yet hear the apostolic curse resound,

More fierce than Sinai’s thunder, sharp as flame:

Though Paul himself, or angel heaven-crowned,

Should preach another gospel in Christ’s name—

Anathema! Let him be damned, cut off,

Devoted to destruction’s holy ire!

Twice spoke the Apostle; twice I set it forth—

The gospel stands eternal, fixed, entire.

For am I now a servant seeking men’s applause,

Or God’s alone? Shall I please mortal breath

And lose the crown? Nay! Let the whole world pause

In outrage—still I cleave to living death

Of Calvary. One gospel, one sure blood,

One narrow gate, one Saviour, crucified,

Risen, returning. All the shifting flood

Of lies shall break against this Rock and die.

O Church of the last days, awake! Arise!

Cast off these bastard creeds that wear His name

Yet bear no scars. Cling to the truth that buys

With precious blood, not cars or fleeting fame.

Let every false apostle stand revealed,

Every gilded lie meet its appointed doom,

Till once again the ancient Word is sealed

In hearts that serve—not man—but Christ the Groom.

*Let him who has ears to hear, hear.*