A Tale of the Modern Mite: No Likes, No Shares, Just Quiet Mercy at the Counter by Debbie Harris

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Summary of “A Tale of the Modern Mite: No Likes, No Shares, Just Quiet Mercy at the Counter”This modern sonnet reimagines the biblical story of the widow’s mite (a poor woman giving her last two small coins in the temple) as an everyday act of kindness in today’s world.

  • In busy coffee shops and grocery stores, people often make generous gestures publicly—posting flashy tips, donations, or good deeds online to gain likes, shares, and attention.
  • A quiet, tired stranger notices a young mother struggling at the checkout: her card is declined, she’s counting coins for basic groceries like milk and bread, and her eyes show quiet desperation.
  • Without hesitation or fanfare, the stranger steps forward, pays for the items, and gently says, “No need to thank, just pass it on someday.”
  • No photo is taken, no story is posted online, no credit is sought—the act remains completely private.
  • While wealthy or showy givers might broadcast their “generosity” from abundance, this stranger gives something she truly can’t easily spare—money or time she needs herself.

The poem ends with the same timeless truth as the original biblical parable:
True gifts aren’t judged by how impressive or visible they are (“glittering display”), but by the real personal sacrifice behind them—the depth of what the giver gives up from the heart.In essence, it’s a gentle reminder that in our age of performative charity and social-media validation, the most meaningful acts of love are often the silent, costly ones that no one ever sees or applauds.

In bustling lines where hurried people wait,
At coffee shops or grocery checkout stands,
Some post their gifts for all the world to rate—
A flashy tip, a viral helping hand.
But one tired soul, with pockets nearly bare,
Saw a young mom count coins for milk and bread;
Her card declined, her eyes filled with despair—
The stranger stepped up, paid, and softly said,

“No need to thank, just pass it on someday.”
No photo snapped, no story shared online;
The rich might boast of grand and showy ways,
But she gave what she couldn’t spare—that time.

Gifts shine not by their glittering display—
What matters is the sacrifice they pay.

No Trumpet, No Applause: The Silent Gift of the Widow’s Mite by Debbie Harris

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The poem “No Trumpet, No Applause: The Silent Gift of the Widow” is written in the classic Shakespearean (or English) sonnet form, a structure Shakespeare popularized in his 154-sonnet sequence. This form is highly structured and disciplined, which helps give the poem its rhythmic flow, emotional buildup, and punchy conclusion—perfect for reflecting on a profound biblical moment like the widow’s mite.

Summary of the Poem: “No Trumpet, No Applause: The Silent Gift of the Widow”The poem retells the biblical story of the widow’s mite (Mark 12:41–44 / Luke 21:1–4) in simple, modern language with a Shakespearean sonnet structure.

  • In a temple, wealthy people proudly donate large sums of money, showing off their generosity with fanfare and abundance.
  • A poor widow quietly approaches and gives just two tiny coins—her last possessions, everything she has to live on.
  • Unlike the rich, whose gifts come from their surplus, her offering costs her dearly: it represents her entire livelihood and life.
  • No one notices or applauds her act; there are no trumpets or cheers.
  • The poem concludes that true giving isn’t judged by the size or flashiness of the gift, but by the real sacrifice and love behind it—the depth of what the giver gives up from the heart.

In essence, it’s a quiet celebration of humble, selfless generosity over showy wealth, highlighting that spiritual worth is measured by sacrifice, not by amount.

In the temple’s quiet corner, rich men came
And tossed their shining coins with showy pride,
Their gifts poured out like rivers, loud with fame,
Each one a boast of wealth they held inside.
Then came a widow, poor and worn with care,
Dressed in old rags, her face lined deep with pain;
Two tiny coins—her very last ones there—
She dropped them in, and gave her all again.

No trumpet sounded for her gentle act,
No crowd turned round to cheer what she had done;
The rich gave scraps from riches they had stacked,
But she gave everything—her life was gone.

Gifts shine not by their glittering display—
What matters is the sacrifice they pay.

When Good Is Called Evil and Evil Good: Our Anchor Is in Thy Holy Word and Victory in Christ by Debbie Harris

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O Lord, the world is turned upside down,
Good is called evil throughout the town.
Evil they praise and set on high throne,
Light they name dark, and sweet they call stone.

Yet we look up from this shadowed strife,
To Thee, our hope, our very life.
Thy Holy Word stands firm and true,
Our anchor sure when all is askew.

As we hold fast to what is right,
Our souls are filled with victory’s light.
For who o’ercomes this world’s dark sway?
The one who trusts in Christ each day.

Who believes that Jesus is Lord divine,
In Him the victory is thine and mine.
So here we stand, through storm and flame,
Believing still in Thy great name.

Today, tomorrow, till time shall cease,
We rest in Thee—our joy, our peace.
Through endless ages, our vow shall ring:
We believe in Thee, eternal King.

Amen.

Beware: Because of the Abounding of Lawlessness, the Love of Most Shall Wax Cold by Debbie Harris

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Because iniquity shall multiply and spread,
Like shadows creeping where the righteous trod,
The love of many, once so warmly fed,
Will grow as cold as winter’s iron rod.

Lawlessness abounds in every street and hall,
Defiance reigns where once obedience stood;
Men call the evil good, the good they call
Foul wrong, and trample mercy in the mud.

Compassion fades, suspicion takes its place,
Hearts harden fast amid the rising tide;
Betrayal whispers in each darkened face,
And selfless care is cast forever aside.

Yet in this frost a faithful remnant gleams,
Whose love endures, though all the world grow dim;
They cling to truth through tribulation’s dreams,
And wait the dawn when Christ shall vanquish sin.

For he who stands unto the end shall find
Salvation sure, though tempests rage and roar—
The love that warms the soul and frees the mind
Shall burn eternal when the age is o’er

Prove All Things; Hold Fast That Which Is Good: A Meditation on Discernment and Apostolic Wisdom by Debbie Harris

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Prove all things; hold fast that which is good.

I Thessalonians 5:21 KJV

In ancient Thessalonica’s gentle night,
Paul penned a charge with apostolic light:
Not blind acceptance, nor hasty flight,
But measured steps in wisdom’s sight.

Prove all things—let not the heart be swayed
By every whisper, promise, or parade.
Weigh words like gold upon the ancient scale,
Test claims where truth and falsehood often veil.

The prophet speaks? The teacher stands to teach?
The spirit moves in fervor’s fervent reach?
Hold not contempt, yet yield not swift belief—
Examine all, as Bereans found relief.

Search the sacred scroll with patient care,
Trace every thread through Scripture’s thorough air.
What rings with heaven’s pure, unchanging tone?
What builds the soul and leads the lost back home?

Hold fast that which is good—grasp firm and true,
The doctrines bright with grace, with mercy new.
Let not the winds of doubt or error tear
The treasure clutched in faith’s unyielding prayer.

Abstain from evil’s every shadowed form,
Though it may glitter, dressed in virtue’s norm.
For in this proving, faith grows strong and deep,
A mind renewed where God’s own wisdom keeps.

O believer, walk this narrow, thoughtful way:
Test, discern, retain—through night to day.
In proving all, you honor Him who said,
“Prove all things”—and find the living Bread.

So let the mind, awakened and awake,
Love God with reason, for His own dear sake.
Prove all things; hold fast that which is good—
In this command, true freedom understood.

Shall Tomorrow Bring a Fifth? Four Apples of Gold in a Silvered Day’s Quiet Roll by Debbie Harris

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Proverbs 25:11 (KJV)
A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver.

In the hush of this silvered day,
four apples of gold have quietly rolled—

one slipped from a laugh at the morning’s first light,
one tumbled in answer to questions of night,
one bloomed as comfort when tears would not cease,
one lifted another, esteeming them higher than self.

Four golden orbs in pictures of silver,
spoken, then caught in the listener’s mirror.

No more, no less—
just four small suns today,
wrapped in the cool alloy of what we say.

Tomorrow, will you seek to speak a fifth—
a word so fitly chosen, so humbly given,
that another’s heart might glimpse the gold
and carry it into their own quiet dawn?

The Parable Of The Pearl Of Great Price by Debbie Harris

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Through oceans vast and markets crowned with light,
Where lesser pearls in shadowed heaps were pressed,
Yet none could stir thy soul to pure delight.
Then burst the One—a blaze of sovereign grace,
Defying gold, outshining every throne,
Whose glory shattered sin’s confining chains
And crowned the seeker king in realms unknown.

With shouts of victory he flung the old away—
Fields, fortunes, all—in rapturous release,
To seize the pearl where endless glories sway,
The conquering gift that bids the captive cease:

Salvation—born again, the soul made new—
No cost too dear to win this pearl so true.

Behold the Gift Unconquered: The Triumphant Beauty of Salvation Where Endless Glories Keep by Debbie Harris

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Summary of the poem
Behold the Gift Unconquered: The Triumphant Beauty of Salvation Where Endless Glories Keep

The sonnet opens by confronting the grim reality of humanity’s fallen state: the grave’s insatiable hunger, death’s dominion, and the curse of sin that held every person in bondage and defeat.

The dramatic turn comes with Christ’s resurrection—“O thunderclap of dawn!”—portrayed as the decisive, thunderous victory. Crowned with His own scars, Christ shatters death’s gates, tears the temple veil, and transforms utter defeat into everlasting light.

The poem then exults in the nature of the gift itself: salvation is not a partial or tentative pardon, but complete and unconquerable dominion. It clothes the believer in an imperishable robe of righteousness and places upon them an unbreakable crown—images of beauty, security, and royal splendor that no decay or enemy can touch.

The closing couplet acknowledges the universal fact of physical death (“Though every flesh must die, though all must sleep”), yet immediately triumphs over it. For those redeemed by Christ, death is merely a gentle sleep, and the true outcome is glorious gain: entrance into heaven, where “endless glories keep” forever.

In essence, the sonnet is a victorious celebration of salvation as Christ’s ultimate, radiant gift—conquering sin and death, remaking the believer in imperishable beauty, and securing for the redeemed an eternal, triumphant home in heaven’s unending glory.

What though the grave once yawned with hungry jaw,
And death’s black banner waved o’er every field?
What though the curse had written every law
In blood and bondage, making all men yield?
Yet Christ arose—O thunderclap of dawn!—
The Victor crowned with scars that shame the night;
He broke the gates, He tore the veil withdrawn,
And turned defeat to everlasting light.

Behold the gift: not pardon half-bestowed,
But full dominion, beauty without end—
A robe of righteousness no moth can erode,
A crown no tyrant’s hand can ever bend.
Though every flesh must die, though all must sleep,
Heaven is gained—where endless glories keep.

Fidelity To God: The Joyful Journey On The Strait And Narrow Road Of His Word by Debbie Harris

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John 15:10-11

10 If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love.
11 These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.

In throngèd paths where fleeting fashions reign,
The crowd pursues the glitter of the age,
Their voices loud with pleasure’s sweet refrain,
Yet hollow echoes fill the gilded stage.
True faith to God demands no mimic art,
No bending knee to idols of the hour;
It scorns the tide that pulls the fainting heart,
And walks the way upheld by higher pow’r.
When popular waves crash with mocking scorn,
And compromise whispers soft and sly,
The soul that clings to heaven’s ancient horn
Rejoices still, though few the path descry.
For loyalty to Him who rules above
Means joyful journey on the narrow road of love.

True Silver And Gold by Debbie Harris

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Psalm 12:6
The words of the LORD are flawless,
like silver purified in a crucible,
like gold refined seven times.

Psalm 19:10
They are more precious than gold,
than much pure gold;
they are sweeter than honey,
than honey from the honeycomb.

Psalm 119:72
The law from your mouth is more precious to me
than thousands of pieces of silver and gold.

These capture the purity (Psalm 12), the surpassing value and delight (Psalm 19), and the personal declaration of priority (Psalm 119).

Here’s your poem presented with verses leading in:

Psalm 12:6
The words of the LORD are flawless,
like silver purified in a crucible,
like gold refined seven times.

Psalm 19:10
They are more precious than gold,
than much pure gold…

Psalm 119:72
The law from your mouth is more precious to me
than thousands of pieces of silver and gold.

Your word oh lord
is the true silver and
gold of this world.