From my heart to yours, may these sonnets lead you to the King of Kings!
The Royal Heir series is a collection of twelve Shakespearean sonnets, each exalting Jesus Christ by portraying a distinct royal heir—a symbolic every-soul redeemed by grace—within a unique profession or calling. Written in iambic pentameter with an ABAB CDCD EFEF GG rhyme scheme, the series spans a diverse array of lives, from the intimate to the authoritative, illustrating Christ’s transformative presence in every sphere. Royal Heir I: Sonnet In Service (The Counselor) begins with a servant guiding others with mercy, followed by Sonnet In Teaching (The Teacher) shaping minds with truth, Sonnet In Shepherding (The Pastor) tending souls with love, and Sonnet In Governing (The Politician) seeking justice in power’s fray. Sonnet In Song (The Musician) lifts melodies as prayer, while Sonnet In Judgment (The Judge) balances law with grace, and Sonnet In Defense (The Lawyer) defends truth with zeal. Leadership deepens with Sonnet In Rule (The Governor) guiding a land, Sonnet In Command (The President) steering a nation, and Sonnet In Waiting (The Vice President) serving in poised readiness. The series closes with the familial heart of Sonnet In Nurture (The Mother) cradling life in love and Sonnet In Guidance (The Father) leading kin with strength. Each sonnet shifts at the volta from earthly duty to inner redemption, concluding with a couplet affirming the Savior’s enduring light, together forming a poetic tapestry that celebrates faith across all walks of life.
Sonnet I: The Witness
The streets alive with noise that knows no God,
A secular hum where faith is but a jest,
I walk alone, my heart by Christ unshod,
His name my shield against the world’s unrest.
The towers gleam, their glass a cold disdain,
They whisper low, “Your King is but a tale,”
Yet in my soul, His fire shall remain,
A royal truth no scorn can e’er assail.
The crowd may laugh, their eyes with pity gleam,
But I, a witness, bear His cross with pride,
Through din and doubt, His love shall reign supreme,
An heir unbowed where lesser hopes subside.
So here I stand, a voice amid the throng,
My Savior’s praise my everlasting song.
Sonnet II: The Scholar
The halls resound with wisdom’s hollow claim,
A secular throne where doubt is crowned as king,
I hold my book, its words a sacred flame,
For Christ alone my mind shall ever sing.
Their theories clash, they mock my simple creed,
“Thy faith,” they sneer, “a relic of the past,”
Yet in these lines, I find the truth I need,
A royal lore no reason can outlast.
The learned scorn, their pride a towering wall,
But I, a scholar, kneel to wisdom’s source,
Through pages worn, His light shall never fall,
An heir steadfast on heaven’s steady course.
So still I read, my heart a quiet stand,
My Savior’s truth my reason shall command.
Sonnet III: The Worker
The shop awakes with clamor void of grace,
A secular grind where faith is swept aside,
I lift my hands, my toil a holy place,
For Christ within my labor shall abide.
Their jests fly swift, “Thy God brings naught to gain,”
They curse His name through sweat and steel’s harsh din,
Yet in my soul, a peace shall still remain,
A royal strength no mockery can thin.
The world may see a drudge in dust and grime,
But I, a worker, bear His mark divine,
Through task and taunt, His love transcends all time,
An heir unyielding in this mortal line.
So daily still, I work with heart sincere,
My Savior’s will my every burden cheer.
Sonnet IV: The Outcast
The throng departs, their scorn a bitter wind,
A secular tide that casts my faith astray,
I stand alone, by Christ my soul is pinned,
His cross my strength where others turn away.
They shun my voice, “Thy creed offends our peace,”
Their doors are shut, their fellowship denied,
Yet in my heart, His mercy shall increase,
A royal bond no exile can divide.
The world may brand me foe to all their ways,
But I, an outcast, wear His name with glee,
Through banishment, His light shall still ablaze,
An heir redeemed where none but He can see.
So here I dwell, apart yet not forlorn,
My Savior’s love my refuge ever born.
Sonnet V: The Artist
The canvas waits, a world that spurns my theme,
A secular muse where beauty bows to none,
I paint my Lord, His grace my grand esteem,
For Christ inspires the strokes that I’ve begun.
Their galleries mock, “Thy art a quaint old lie,”
They laud the void, their colors cold and bare,
Yet in my lines, His truth shall never die,
A royal vision rising through the air.
The critics jeer, their taste a hollow throne,
But I, an artist, frame His face divine,
Through brush and hue, His glory stands alone,
An heir unshaken in this craft of mine.
So still I wield my palette for His reign,
My Savior’s light my every shade sustain.
Sonnet VI: The Healer
The wards arise with cries that shun my prayer,
A secular veil where science reigns supreme,
I tend their flesh, my faith a whispered air,
For Christ anoints the hands that seek to redeem.
They scoff aloud, “Thy God has no domain,”
Their charts deny the soul beneath the skin,
Yet in my touch, His mercy shall remain,
A royal balm where healing may begin.
The world may trust in steel and sterile lore,
But I, a healer, see His work unfold,
Through pain and cure, His love I can’t ignore,
An heir steadfast with grace that won’t grow cold.
So daily still, I mend with quiet might,
My Savior’s peace my lantern in the night.
Sonnet VII: The Merchant
The market hums with gain that knows no creed,
A secular chase where gold is all they seek,
I trade my wares, my faith a planted seed,
For Christ upholds the honesty I speak.
They bribe and cheat, “Thy truth will cost thee dear,”
Their scales are tipped, their hearts a hollow shell,
Yet in my stall, His justice lingers near,
A royal code no profit can dispel.
The world may prize the wealth that rusts away,
But I, a merchant, weigh a higher store,
Through barter bold, His light shall hold its sway,
An heir unbowed where greed shall reign no more.
So still I stand, my ledger pure and plain,
My Savior’s will my everlasting gain.
Sonnet VIII: The Parent
The home awakes with youth that drifts afar,
A secular pull where faith is deemed a chain,
I guide my own, my love their northern star,
For Christ renews the hope that I maintain.
They hear the world, “Thy God is but a yoke,”
Their peers deride the prayers we softly say,
Yet in my arms, His strength shall still invoke,
A royal guard through night and fleeting day.
The age may scorn the hearth where faith is sown,
But I, a parent, plant His word with care,
Through doubt and storm, His truth shall not be thrown,
An heir steadfast, His cross my kin shall bear.
So daily still, I nurture undismayed,
My Savior’s grace my children’s barricade.
Sonnet IX: The Elder
The years unfold, a world that youth reveres,
A secular dawn where age is cast aside,
I hold my ground, my faith through silvered years,
For Christ sustains the soul where I reside.
They pass me by, “Thy time has lost its sway,”
Their haste forgets the wisdom I have earned,
Yet in my heart, His promise shall not stray,
A royal flame that time has never burned.
The young may chase a fleeting, hollow gleam,
But I, an elder, stand with steady gaze,
Through fading days, His love shall reign supreme,
An heir unbowed in life’s unyielding maze.
So still I rise, my spirit ever strong,
My Savior’s peace my anthem all along.
Sonnet X: The Proclaimer
The square resounds with ears that will not hear,
A secular roar where truth is drowned in din,
I lift my voice, my King I’ll not forswear,
For Christ empowers the words that I begin.
They shout me down, “Thy gospel spoils our ease,”
Their rage a wall, their hearts a locked embrace,
Yet in my cry, His mercy shall increase,
A royal call no silence can displace.
The world may close its gates to all I preach,
But I, a proclaimer, bear His news with might,
Through storm and scorn, His kingdom I beseech,
An heir undaunted in this holy fight.
So here I speak, my tongue a sacred flame,
My Savior’s glory evermore proclaim.
Passionately Pursuing Christ 