Monthly Archives: June 2026

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

09 Tuesday Jun 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational

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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

09 Tuesday Jun 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Pleasing God Not Man, Royally Redeemed, Spiritual Warfare

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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

09 Tuesday Jun 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational

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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.

May Faithfulness, Seen and Unseen, Be the Crown We Moment by Moment Lay Down at Thy Feet by Debbie Harris

08 Monday Jun 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Pleasing God Not Man, Royally Redeemed, Thanksgiving, Triumphant

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A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

In the quiet rhythm of our fleeting days, where dawn’s first light meets midnight’s hush, I have often felt the gentle yet insistent call to lay down my heart’s small offerings before the feet of the Sovereign King. This poem was born from that recurring prayer: that faithfulness—both the visible acts of love and the unseen battles waged in secret—might become a living crown, renewed moment by moment, and surrendered wholly to Him.

It is not a boast of perfect devotion, but a humble confession and invitation. We are all pilgrims weaving our days into something eternal. Some jewels in the crown shine with joy and triumph; others are forged in tears, temptation, and patient endurance. Yet all are precious when laid before the One who walked Gethsemane’s night for us.

May these verses stir your own spirit to the same sweet surrender. May you find courage to offer your seen and unseen faithfulness, trusting that the King of Grace receives even the smallest crown with delight and transforms it into glory.

With prayerful affection,

The Poet

Revelation 4:10-11 (KJV)

The four and twenty elders fall down before him that sat on the throne, and worship him that liveth for ever and ever, and cast their crowns before the throne, saying,

Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honour and power: for thou hast created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were created.

May faithfulness, seen and unseen,

Be the crown we moment by moment lay down

At Thy feet, O Sovereign of grace serene,

Where mercy’s pure river makes deserts abound.

In dawn’s golden hush and in noon’s fierce fray,

In twilight’s soft veil and midnight’s chill shade,

We offer our labors, the battles we’ve braved—

The thorn-crowned endurance, the tears on bent knee—

And cast them like sheaves at Thy throne, wholly free.

Each jewel a promise, each link forged alone,

Woven of sorrow and joy intertwined,

Not gold that will tarnish nor laurels that fade,

But faithfulness offered in heart, hand, and mind.

O King who hast trod through Gethsemane’s night,

Accept this poor diadem, humble yet bright;

From cradle to conflict, from valley to prayer,

We yield every heartbeat, each breath and each care.

As rivers to ocean in ceaseless flow,

As incense ascends where the seraphim glow,

So moment by moment our crowns we resign,

Our wills and our labors, our all we consign

To Thee, the Beginning, the End, the Divine.

When time’s final curtain at last shall descend

And eternity’s morning its splendors extend,

We shall stand in Thy presence, all crowns laid before,

With faithfulness radiant forevermore,

In the halls of Thy glory, Thy children, restored.

No Neutral Ground: The Fierce Contention for Souls Between the Father of Lights and the Father of Lies by Debbie Harris

07 Sunday Jun 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Pleasing God Not Man, Spiritual Warfare

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A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

In the quiet hush between heartbeats, where the unseen war rages most fiercely, I have written these lines. This world is no neutral ground—it is a battlefield of souls. On one side stands the Eternal Good, our loving Creator, whose light breaks through every shadow and whose mercy never fails. On the other prowls the ancient enemy, Satan, filled with hatred for every soul made in God’s image. He cannot create, so he destroys; he cannot love, so he deceives.

Yet the victory has already been won upon the Cross. These verses are not meant merely to rhyme or entertain, but to awaken. Choose this day whom you will serve. Turn your eyes toward the Light that the darkness cannot overcome. You are precious in the sight of the Father—fearfully and wonderfully made, a beloved child of the King.

May these words stir your spirit to stand firm, to pray without ceasing, and to walk in the freedom Christ has purchased with His blood. You are not alone in this fight; the Captain of Heaven’s armies fights for you.

With solemn hope and warm affection,

The Poet

Ephesians 6:12 KJV

For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.

Ephesians 6:12 AMP

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood [contending only with physical opponents], but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this [present] darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly (supernatural) places.

Joshua 24:15 KJV

And if it seem evil unto you to serve the LORD, choose you this day whom ye will serve; whether the gods which your fathers served that were on the other side of the flood, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land ye dwell: but as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD.

Joshua 24:15 AMP

If it is unacceptable in your sight to serve the LORD, choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve: whether the gods which your fathers served that were on the other side of the [Euphrates] River, or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you live; but as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD.

1 Peter 5:8 KJV

Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.

1 Peter 5:8 AMP

Be sober [well balanced and self-disciplined], be alert and cautious at all times. That enemy of yours, the devil, prowls around like a roaring lion [fiercely hungry], seeking someone to devour.

In realms unseen where shadows clash with light,

A war eternal wages through the night—

For every soul that treads this mortal sod,

The hosts of Heaven battle for its flight.

There is the Good, whose name is God alone,

Whose mercy flows like rivers from His throne;

He weaves creation’s tapestry with grace,

And calls each wandering heart to be His own.

Yet evil stirs, a serpent in the dust,

Whose ancient hatred poisons all that’s just;

The Adversary, Satan, prince of lies,

Who envies Eden’s dawn and heaven’s trust.

He hates the souls that bear the Maker’s breath,

And plots their ruin, courting them with death—

With gilded chains of pleasure, pride, and gold,

He lures the weak to fires that never rest.

O soul adrift upon this stormy sea,

Lift up thine eyes where Christ has set thee free!

The cross has shattered hell’s deceitful claim,

And God’s own blood has won the victory.

Choose ye this day whom ye will serve in strife:

The Light of Life, or darkness’ bitter knife.

For in this battle, none may neutral stand—

Eternal joy or woe awaits thy life.

God is the Good, forever pure and bright;

Satan the foe, who flees before the Light.

Awake, arise, and claim the victor’s crown—

The spiritual war shall end in endless dawn!

Psalm 97:10 – A Classical Ode by Debbie Harris

07 Sunday Jun 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Pleasing God Not Man, Royally Redeemed

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From the Poet

Dear Reader,

In a world that whispers “just a little compromise,” Psalm 97:10 rings like a clarion call from heaven: “You who love the Lord, hate evil!” This ode is my humble attempt to clothe that divine command in classical dress — rich with the thunder and lightning of the Psalm itself, the unyielding cedar of conviction, and the certain dawn of the coming King.

May these lines strengthen your heart to stand unmoved. Hate what God hates. Love what He loves. Refuse every gilded truce with darkness. The King is returning in glory, and righteousness shall dawn.

With prayer and holy resolve,

The Poet

Psalm 97:10

KJV

Ye that love the LORD, hate evil: he preserveth the souls of his saints; he delivereth them out of the hand of the wicked.

ESV

O you who love the LORD, hate evil! He preserves the lives of his saints; he delivers them from the hand of the wicked.

AMP

You who love the LORD, hate evil; He protects the souls of His godly ones (believers), He rescues them from the hand of the wicked.

NIV

Let those who love the LORD hate evil, for he guards the lives of his faithful ones and delivers them from the hand of the wicked.

O ye who love the Eternal Flame, whose breast

Doth throb with holy fire unquenched by night,

Hate evil as the serpent’s venomous crest

That poisons Eden’s bowers with subtle blight!

Let not thy foot in compromise be led

Where shadows weave their silken, treacherous thread;

Nor let thy hand in friendship’s false embrace

Clasp hands that bear the mark of darkness’ race.

Behold the throne where Righteousness and Truth

Like twin seraphim guard the sapphire height!

Clouds mantle Him in majesty uncouth

To mortal gaze, yet blaze with living light.

Lightning leaps forth—His arrows swift and keen—

And mountains melt like wax where sin hath been.

The heavens declare His glory, earth obeys,

And every idol crashes in the blaze.

Thou, saint of God, preserved amid the flood

Of raging wickedness that swells and roars,

Shalt stand unmoved, a cedar in the wood

When tempests howl and lesser branches fall.

No compromise with Belial’s gilded lies,

No truce with Mammon’s lustful, hungry eyes;

Thy convictions, forged in heaven’s anvil bright,

Shall shine as adamant against the night.

Let evil’s hosts in purple pomp advance,

With crowns of fading laurel on their brow;

Thy soul shall spurn their revels and their dance,

And turn to Zion’s hill with steadfast vow.

For He who loves thee guards thy life with care—

From wicked hands He snatches thee from snare.

The oil of joy upon thy head is poured;

Thy path is lit by His unfailing Word.

Thus sing, O heart that loves the Lord alone:

“Hate evil! Cling to good with iron will!”

Though darkness rage and tempters slyly drone,

The upright soul shall climb the holy hill.

No compromise, though empires tempt and fall;

Thy King returns in glory—Righteousness shall dawn!

The Silent Tragedy: When the Word Sin Is Eradicated from a Culture by Debbie Harris

06 Saturday Jun 2026

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Dear Reader,

From the poet:

In an age that has quietly erased the word sin from its vocabulary, I offer this poem not as condemnation, but as a solemn reminder and an urgent invitation. Once we lose the honest naming of our rebellion against God and His good order, we also lose the path to true forgiveness and restoration.

May these lines stir the conscience, awaken the heart, and turn every soul toward the only One who can save us from our sins—Jesus Christ our Lord.

Will you and I be among those who still dare to call sin sin, and thereby point a broken world to the Savior?

In elder days when thunder voiced the Law

And prophets walked the flinty roads of old,

The word sin rang as iron on the soul—

A blade that clove the heart, a bell of gold

That tolled repentance ere the grave grew cold.

Now from the common tongue the word is fled,

Like some archaic curse no longer named.

The pulpits soften, courts declare it dead,

And schools instruct the young: “No soul is blamed.”

All acts are neutral flowers, self-blessed, untamed.

O tragic void! Where once the pilgrim knelt

Beneath the weight of wrong and cried for grace,

Now mirrors only flatter, conscience melts

Into a mist of “feelings,” “choice,” and “space.”

No fall remains; thus no redemption waits.

The ancient bards knew better. Homer sang

Of wrath that spoiled the host and felled the brave;

Virgil beheld the guilty shades who clang

Their chains in Tartarus, unshriven, save

By memory of trespass and the grave.

Dante, fierce Florentine, with measured tread

Descended hell’s nine circles, naming each

By sin’s true name—fraud, lust, pride, the dread

Of treason’s frozen lake. No gentle speech

Could blunt the horror; truth alone could teach.

Milton, blind but seeing, raised his song

To justify the ways of God to men,

And showed how one transgression, vast and strong,

Brought death and all our woe. Yet even then

The greater arc of mercy rose again.

But strip away the word and what remains?

A culture sleek with self, where every vice

Is rechristened “lifestyle,” “identity,” or “gains.”

No prodigal returns; no broken cries

Ascend. The temple stands, but God’s house lies

In ruins of the tongue. The heart grows coarse,

Untroubled by the stain it will not see.

Ambition swells to empire without remorse,

And cruelty wears the mask of liberty.

The final darkness falls—yet no one flees.

Restore the word, sharp as a surgeon’s knife,

That cuts the canker out before it kills.

Let sin once more awaken mortal strife

Between the soul and its rebellious will,

Till humbled knees recall the ancient skill

Of seeking pardon. Only then may rise

The triumph of the Cross that ends all pain:

Forgiveness purchased at Redemption’s price,

Where sin confessed is washed in crimson rain,

And man, once fallen, stands upright again.

Will you and I be those who call sin sin,

Thereby pointing all to the Savior strong—

Who saves lost souls from every stain within

Through Jesus Christ our Lord, the endless song

Of grace that makes the broken whole, restored.

The Christ-Centered Poet’s Heart: A Warrior’s Blazing Golden Heart Clothed in Velvet Victory and Resurrection Fire by Debbie Harris

06 Saturday Jun 2026

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Dear Reader,

If these lines have reached your eyes, know this: the heart that wrote them is no delicate bloom trembling in the wind. It is a warrior’s heart—hammered on the anvil of Calvary, refined in resurrection fire, and clothed in the velvet of Christ’s own compassion.

I do not write to impress the world, but to remind every soul who battles in secret that strength and tenderness are not opposites. They are twin flames kindled by the same nail-pierced hand. The Lion of Judah roars, yet the Lamb still weeps with you. In Him, your fiercest wounds become weapons, your deepest sorrows become songs, and your broken places become banners of victory.

Rise, beloved. Charge with poems as swords. The gates of hell cannot stand. Glory awaits, and the King who calls you “more than conqueror” rides at your side.

With triumphant love and velvet fire,

The Poet

Beneath the breastplate forged in heaven’s blaze,

A golden heart of warrior’s blazing ore

Pulses with resurrection thunder raised,

Victorious, yet wrapped in velvet’s core.

No fragile glass to fracture at a sigh—

But royal velvet, dyed in crimson flood,

Where nail-scarred hands have woven mercy high

And crowned the storm with banners soaked in blood.

This poet’s soul, a sword of flame unsheathed,

Wields poems like lightning against the dragon’s night;

It charges through the gates of hell, victorious,

Roaring triumph in the fiercest fight.

For Christ the Lion-Lamb has loosed the roar

That turns the fiercest heart to velvet’s golden shore—

A trumpet blast of glory evermore!

The Demonic Subversion of Liberty: The Enemy’s Cunning Use of Church-State Separation to Expel the Almighty and Sacred Scripture from the Nation’s Public Squares by Debbie Harris

06 Saturday Jun 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Patriotic

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A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

In this darkening hour, when the public square lies desolate and the voices of faith are driven into whispered corners, I set forth this poem not as mere verse, but as a prophetic lament and a clarion call. The enemy of souls has long wielded the noble phrase “separation of church and state” as a demonic sword—twisting its original intent to shield the church from tyranny into a weapon to exile Almighty God and His Holy Bible from the very lifeblood of the nation.

What began as a safeguard for liberty has been forged in hell’s own furnace into a barrier against the Light itself. Schools no longer echo with the fear of the Lord. Courtrooms stand stripped of the Ten Commandments. Public squares, once alive with prayer and sacred song, now bow before the cold idols of secularism, pride, and fleshly license. This is no accident of history, but a calculated subversion—a great deception designed to unmoor a people from their Maker and prepare the ground for darker principalities.

Yet the Word of God cannot be chained. The same Scriptures that kindled the hearts of our Founders still burn with unquenchable fire. This poem is offered in the spirit of the ancient prophets: to expose the serpent’s cunning, to mourn what has been lost, and to stir the remnant to holy boldness. Church and state may rightly walk in parallel paths, but no wall forged by man—or devil—can separate the living God from those who seek Him.

May these lines awaken slumbering consciences, rebuke the powers of darkness, and kindle again the holy flame that once made this land a beacon. Return, O nation, to the Rock from which you were hewn. The King of kings yet reigns, and His Word shall have the final victory.

In solemn hope and unyielding faith,

The Poet

In shadowed halls where once the Light held sway,

The ancient serpent coils with cunning art,

And whispers lies that twist the founding day,

To rend the sacred from the nation’s heart.

“Separation!” cries the demonic host,

A wall of stone where none was meant to rise,

To bar the Throne of Grace from coast to coast,

And quench the Lamp that lit the Founders’ eyes.

With guile he cloaks his malice in the law,

As if the Lord were foe to liberty;

Yet Jefferson’s pen, in wisdom’s awe,

Spoke church from state, not God from you and me.

Now courts profane decree the Bible banned,

From schoolhouse walls where children once were taught

The fear of Him who made both sea and land,

And moral law that tyrants’ schemes have wrought.

The enemy exults in empty squares,

Where crosses fall and carols fade to dust;

No Ten Commands to guide the judge’s cares,

No prayer to pierce the halls of power’s lust.

He sows division, calls it tolerance high,

While altars crumble ’neath the secular throne;

The public square, once open to the sky,

Now bows to idols carved of flesh and stone.

O blinded age, that deems the Gospel chain,

When freedom’s root in Scripture deep was set!

The enemy hath used this twisted rein

To loose the beast and bind the saints in debt.

Yet Heaven laughs at schemes of mortal spite—

The Word of God no edict can confine;

Though veiled in courts of false enlightened night,

It burns eternal in the heart of man divine.

Arise, ye faithful, rend the serpent’s guise!

Let truth reclaim the square where once it shone;

For church and state may walk in parallel skies,

But God above shall never be dethroned.

The Bible’s light no darkness can eclipse—

It calls through time, a trumpet loud and clear:

Return, O land, from error’s dark eclipse,

And crown the King whom angels all revere.

The Victorious Call – A Soul Beholds Its Sin, Weeps on Hallowed Ground, and Rises Clothed in Triumph by Debbie Harris

06 Saturday Jun 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, salvation, Spiritual Warfare, Triumphant

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A Note to the Reader from the Poet

Dear Reader,

If you have ever stood where this soul stands—eyes flooded with the weight of your own sin, heart aching with the truth that you are vile—know this: you are not alone, and you are not without hope. These verses were written for the moment your tears fall on holy ground. That weeping is not the end; it is the doorway.

The robe is real. The blood still speaks. The Lamb still calls. Come just as you are. Let the hallowed ground of honest confession become the place where heaven clothes you in victory.

With joy in the triumph of grace,

The Poet

Job 40:4

NIV

I am unworthy—how can I reply to you? I put my hand over my mouth.

ESV

Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth.

AMP

Behold, I am of little importance and contemptible; what can I reply to You? I lay my hand on my mouth.

KJV

Behold, I am vile; what shall I answer thee? I will lay mine hand upon my mouth.

They stand before the throne, once clad in tattered rags,

A soul that suddenly beholds its every crimson stain;

Great rivers of repentance flow, hot tears that carve deep tracks,

And every memory, laid bare, falls prostrate in the rain.

This is the hallowed ground where broken sinners meet their God—

Where weeping eyes see sin as black as midnight’s deepest pit,

Where trembling hands can grasp no rope, no ladder, no façade—

Yet here the gift of all gifts waits: pure mercy, richly fit.

Like Job they rise from ashen dust in thunderous, tear-stained praise,

Like Isaiah cleansed beneath the altar’s searing, holy blaze,

Like Paul, once chief of sinners, now ablaze with ransomed days—

Grace thundered, swept their guilt into forgetful, endless praise!

No sin now holds this champion from the fight they’ve won at last,

They cast their darkness down as conquered, trampled, helpless foe;

The night that tried to quench the Eternal Light has fled, outclassed,

Now bows its head where crimson rivers of redemption flow!

No frantic hands, no futile will were needed in the fray—

The blood of heaven stormed the gulf and triumphed in its flood!

The ledger’s debt forever cancelled, blotted, swept away,

The iron chains lie shattered, gleaming shards in crimson mud!

“Come now!” the voice rings out in trumpet might and trumpet song,

“Not for the righteous— but the lost made bold by tears alone!”

They lift their eyes, aflame with holy, weeping, wondrous dawn,

The Cross their banner, blazing bright, and their new story known!

Just as they are, with sin’s last shadow slain in weeping light,

With every chain dissolved in radiant, unstoppable grace,

They march triumphant through the open plain of endless height—

The Lamb receives the vilest soul and crowns them in His place!

Behold the robe! A robe of blazing righteousness descends,

Woven in heaven’s loom with threads of everlasting gold,

White as untrodden snow on peaks where morning never ends,

Embroidered deep with scars of love and mercy manifold.

It wraps the weeping soul in glory words cannot contain—

No longer rags of shame, but splendor flashing like the sun;

The tears that fell like jewels now sparkle in its radiant train,

And hallowed ground becomes the threshold where the vict’ry’s won!

The ragged cloak lies trampled, buried in the dust of grace;

A robe of blazing righteousness is worn in triumph bright!

Though dawn once found them broken, weeping, bound in sin’s embrace,

By evening they are stars in heaven’s vast, eternal light!

Now is the hour! The gates of glory swing on hinges grand!

The one once vile now reigns, redeemed, and lifts a victor’s song!

Hell’s darkest claim has lost its final, feeble, futile sting—

Triumphant, justified, the victory forever rings!