A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

These lines were born in the quiet hours when the heart remembers that the Christian life is no flat path, but a living mountain range—valleys fragrant with rain and wildflowers, steep climbs that burn the legs and refine the soul, and summits where the air itself seems to sing of glory.

I have tried to paint what the eyes see and the lungs breathe along the way: the silver mist, the crushed thyme underfoot, the diamond flash of waterfalls, the clean scent of snow and cedar. And above all, I have tried to honor the Triune Companion who never leaves the trail—rescuing, transforming, coaching, cheering, correcting, and disciplining with a love that is both fierce and tender.

May these words find you wherever you are on the ascent. May they remind you that you are already royally redeemed, already crowned, and that every step—whether through shadowed vale or blazing height—is leading you, at last, into His holy presence bright.

With quiet joy and shared hope,

The Poet

Psalm 23:4

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”

Habakkuk 3:19

“The LORD God is my strength, and he will make my feet like hinds’ feet, and he will make me to walk upon mine high places.”

Hebrews 12:5–6, 11

“My son, despise not thou the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of him: For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. … Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous: nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are exercised thereby.”

1 Peter 2:9

“But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light.”

Revelation 1:5–6

“Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, And hath made us kings and priests unto God and his Father; to him be glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen.”

Following Jesus is ascending a vast mountain range,

A kingdom trail of wonder, trial, and grace’s change—

Where emerald valleys unfurl beneath silvered skies,

Rain-kissed meadows glisten like jewels before the eyes.

Behold the soft mist rising from the dew-drenched floor,

Wildflowers cascading in violet, gold, and crimson lore;

Their petals open wide to drink the morning’s light,

While fragrant hyacinth and mountain lily take flight

Upon the breeze—sweet nectar, earth after the rain,

Petrichor rising rich, a perfume that soothes all pain.

Down in those sheltered vales where shadows gently fall,

Beauty hides in mossy stones and ferns that softly call;

The air hangs heavy with the scent of pine and blooming thyme,

A holy hush where tears become the soil for growth sublime.

Here the heart is refined beneath the canopy of green,

As distant peaks gleam white against a sapphire sheen.

Then the upward climbs begin—the rocky, winding way,

Where lungs burn deep and muscles ache beneath the day;

Yet every step reveals new vistas painted bold and bright:

Cascading waterfalls that flash like diamonds in the light,

Alpine meadows blanketed in star-like edelweiss,

Their crisp, clean fragrance mingling with the snow’s pure ice.

At last the mountain tops—oh, exquisite, breath-held views!

Endless ridges rolling blue, kissed by the sun’s soft hues;

Clouds drift below like woolen seas, while eagles wheel and cry,

And heaven’s glory spills in gold across the endless sky.

The wind carries the scent of distant cedar, wild and free,

A heady incense rising toward eternity.

And there—always there—our Triune God abides:

Father’s mighty arm that rescues when the footing slides,

Spirit’s gentle breath that transforms the weary soul,

Son who walks beside, coaching every upward goal.

He cheers with tender joy when courage starts to rise,

Corrects with loving firmness when pride would compromise,

Disciplines as a King who shapes His royal heirs,

Turning every stumble into deeper, richer prayers.

Oh, what a sacred adventure for the royally redeemed!

Crowned in blood-bought mercy, by the Lamb forever claimed.

Through fragrant valleys low and summits piercing high,

Through rain-scented sorrow and vistas that stun the eye,

We follow our Savior, heart and senses filled with praise,

Climbing, redeemed and crowned, into His holy presence bright.