Monthly Archives: August 2026

When Winter Comes to the Heart That Raised You: Still the Blessings of the Savior Flow by Debbie Harris

01 Saturday Aug 2026

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

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A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

If these lines find you in the quiet ache of watching a parent decline—whether the fading is slow or sudden, whether memory still holds or has begun to slip—know that you are held by the same Christ who wept at the tomb of Lazarus and who still draws near to the brokenhearted.

I wrote these words for the sacred space between love and letting go, where roles reverse and strength becomes the child’s. Yet even here the gospel remains true: the Lord who is close to the crushed in spirit has not withdrawn His presence. His bountiful blessings take the form of His own companionship—the same Jesus who promised, “I am with you always,” walks these final miles with both the parent and the child who watches.

May these verses point you gently back to Him. May they remind you that the Light of the World does not wait for winter’s end to shine, and that every tear is already seen by the One who will one day wipe them all away.

In the sure hope of Christ,

The Poet

Even when the one who held you first grows frail,

And memory softens like the evening light,

When strength that once upheld you starts to fail

And days grow quieter, edged with coming night—

Still mercy moves beneath the heavy years.

In trembling hands that once could lift the world

A deeper tenderness at last appears;

In slower steps, a gentler love is unfurled.

The body wanes, yet something sacred stays:

The look that knows you still, the whispered name,

The quiet courage of declining days,

The grace that lingers, never quite the same.

God’s bountiful hand does not withdraw its gift—

It offers presence in the fading breath,

A chance to serve, to sit, to simply lift

The weight of love against the face of death.

So in this season, bitter, slow, and deep,

When roles reverse and strength becomes the child’s,

Blessing still walks where the weary weep,

And heaven draws near in soft and sacred miles.

Thou Crownest the Year with Thy Goodness, O Lord: An Ode to the Constant Blessings and Joyous Harvest of Divine Providence by Debbie Harris

01 Saturday Aug 2026

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

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A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

These lines are set forth in humble meditation upon that crowning word of the Psalmist: “Thou crownest the year with thy goodness” (Psalm 65:11). All the year long the mercies of the Lord fail not; they are new every morning, and great is His faithfulness (Lamentations 3:22–23). Whether we lie down in sleep or rise to labour, His lovingkindness compasses us about, even as the air that we breathe, so that in Him we live, and move, and have our being (Acts 17:28).

Yet the same God who is constant in His providence is also rich in special seasons of grace. As the sun at noonday burns more fiercely than at dawn, as the rivers are swollen in the time of latter rain, so the Lord, in the appointed hour, magnifies His favour before the sons of men. Chief among these overflowing seasons is the harvest, when the earth yields her increase and the reaper fills his bosom with the sheaves of heaven’s liberality. Then is the year crowned, not merely with temporal abundance, but with a visible token of that spiritual harvest for which the Lord of the vineyard still calls labourers into His field (Matthew 9:37–38).

Let the heart therefore be stirred to inward gratitude, that it may meditate day and night upon this goodness (Psalm 1:2). Let the lips break forth in praise, for it is a good thing to give thanks unto the Lord (Psalm 92:1). And let the hand not be idle, but bring a freewill offering—a thank-offering of substance and of self—unto the Lord of the harvest, remembering that every good gift and every perfect gift is from above (James 1:17).

May these verses, poor as they are, serve only to direct the eye upward to Him who alone is worthy of all honour, and may the reader’s own soul be crowned with the joy of harvest, both now and in the day when the final sheaves are gathered into the eternal garner.

With reverence and hope,

The Poet

All seasons through, each hour by night and day,

The Lord pours forth His blessings on our way;

When sleep enfolds, or waking eyes unclose,

His mercy waits, and never doth repose.

The sun may sink and bequeath a darkened sky,

Yet God withdraws not love’s unclouded eye;

His beams of favour, constant, pure, and bright,

Shine on His children through the longest night.

As some deep river, full and ever free,

His lovingkindness rolls eternally—

Inexhaustible as His own nature’s store,

It flows, and fails not, evermore and more.

Or as the ambient air that wraps the sphere,

Sustaining life, and always hovering near,

So God’s benevolence surrounds the whole;

In it we live, and move, and have our soul.

Yet as the summer sun more warmly glows,

And rivers rise when gracious rains dispose,

And air grows pure with bracing, balmy power,

So mercy too hath its appointed hour—

Its golden seasons of abundant grace,

When God before the sons of men displays

His favour heightened, overflowing, free,

And magnifies His kindness openly.

Among the blessings of the nether springs,

The harvest brings its rare and joyous things;

Autumn’s ripe glory, when the fields unfold

Providence’s gifts in liberality untold.

This is the mellow time of full content,

When hope is crowned in rich accomplishment.

Great is the joy that fills the reaper’s breast;

Happy the arms that gather heaven’s behest,

And bear away the bounty freely given—

The crowning mercy that adorns the year from heaven.

The Psalmist sings: the harvest crowns the year;

These crowning mercies claim our praise sincere.

Let inward gratitude the heart inflame,

Warm every spirit, meditate His name;

Recall, remember, ponder all His good,

Till wonder rises as it rightly should.

Then with the lips His bounty let us laud,

And magnify the Name from whom all flows abroad;

With gifts we yield, His cause we will uphold—

A thank-offering pure, more precious than gold,

The practical seal of hearts that truly know

The Lord of harvest, source of all below.

Thus may our lives, in gratitude complete,

Reflect the mercy that makes all things sweet,

And crown with praise the Giver of the year,

Whose goodness shines, perpetual and clear.