Category Archives: Christ-centered poetry

When God Gives Souls Up To A Demonic Reprobate Mind by Debbie Harris

23 Saturday May 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Jesus Christ, King of Kings, Spiritual Warfare

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Romans 1:28 (KJV)

And even as they did not like to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them over to a reprobate mind, to do those things which are not convenient;

Romans 1:24-26 (KJV)

Wherefore God also gave them up to uncleanness through the lusts of their own hearts, to dishonour their own bodies between themselves:

Who changed the truth of God into a lie, and worshipped and served the creature more than the Creator, who is blessed for ever. Amen.

For this cause God gave them up unto vile affections: for even their women did change the natural use into that which is against nature:

In shadowed halls where truth is bent and broken,

Men trade the Eternal for the fleeting spark,

Worship the creature, words of lies are spoken,

And bow to dust instead of Heaven’s arc.

The Maker’s glory, blazing, pure, and bright,

Exchanged for idols carved by human hands—

So God withdraws His grip, releases light,

And gives them up to what their lust demands.

To uncleanness, hearts inflamed with fire,

Bodies dishonored in the secret place,

Where passion twists what purity would require,

And shame parades as freedom, face to face.

For this, vile affections take their throne,

Women forsake the use that nature gave,

Men burn with madness, reaping what was sown,

In chambers dark where souls become a grave.

A reprobate mind, no longer held in check,

Approves the evil, calls the darkness light—

No fear of judgment, no remorse to check

The headlong rush into the endless night.

O hear the warning, trembling as you stand:

Reject the Giver, chase the gift instead,

And He will loose the reins upon your hand,

Till what you crave becomes your daily bread.

Turn back, return, before the giving o’er—

The God who judges also stands to save.

His mercy waits, an open, boundless door,

For those who call upon the name that saves.

Let this be known: The path of self is steep,

And leads to ruin wrapped in false delight.

Choose Christ, choose truth, choose Him whose word is deep—

Before the mind grows dark and loses sight.

Lament For The Wandering Flock by Debbie Harris

22 Friday May 2026

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

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O grievous woe, when souls profess the Name
Yet chase the fleeting fashions of the age,
And know the lore of courts and poets’ fame
Far better than the Christ who calmed the rage
Of Galilee’s wild sea. What tragedy
When hearts, baptized in Jordan’s ancient stream,
Drink deeper from the wells of vanity
Than from the living Fount, the endless Theme
Of Heaven’s Lamb, whose wounds still bleed for thee.

The marble busts of Athens line their walls,
The verses of old Rome they can recite;
They trace the Renaissance in gilded halls
And quote the wits of Paris by firelight.
Yet scarce can name the Beatitudes’ pure light,
Or linger long where Golgotha once stood,
Or speak with trembling of that dreadful night
When Love Incarnate bowed His head for good
And cried, “Forgiven,” from the cursed wood.

This ought not be. The Shepherd calls His sheep
From Babel’s glittering towers and siren song;
He bids them leave the meadows where they creep
Among the tares, and where the world belongs.
Return, O ransomed ones, to Scripture’s page—
There burns the Bush that time cannot consume;
There walks the Word through every storm and age,
The Alpha and Omega, Sun and Tomb,
Whose knowledge is eternal life, not doom.

Awake, beloved! Let culture serve as slave,
Not master of the soul redeemed by grace.
Let every knee before the Cross be bowed,
And every tongue confess the Saviour’s face.
For what shall profit all the world’s applause
If, knowing much of men, we know not God?
O tragedy reversed when Christ is Cause—
The Pearl of greatest price, the living Word,
Our treasure, portion, joy, and great reward.

Every Morning a Fresh Gift: Falling Before the Lamb in Grateful Praise by Debbie Harris

21 Thursday May 2026

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Jesus Christ, King of Kings, Praise, salvation

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Dear Precious Reader,

Every morning is a fresh gift — a beautiful reminder of the miracle of being born again and having the gift of a new day. This poem flows from my own heart as I wake each morning and fall to my knees in awe. I wanted to capture that sacred moment when we remember we are no longer who we once were. We are chosen, washed clean, and made brand new in Christ. Each dawn is God’s tender mercy saying, “I have given you new life… now go live it for My glory.”I pray these words stir fresh joy in your spirit. May you feel the wonder of your new birth in Jesus all over again. May every sunrise fill you with deep gratitude, renewed strength, and a burning desire to advance the Kingdom of our Lord.You are deeply loved. You are truly born again. And every new day is proof that His mercies never fail.

With a grateful heart and lifted hands,
Your fellow traveler in grace

Brief Summary of the Poem’s Form

This poem is composed in a lyrical, hymn-like style reminiscent of classical Christian devotional poetry. It employs iambic pentameter (five pairs of unstressed-stressed syllables per line) throughout, giving it a steady, song-like rhythm suitable for both reading and worship. The structure consists of four eight-line stanzas followed by a closing four-line stanza and a final rhyming couplet, creating a sense of building praise that culminates in a doxology. The rhyme scheme is primarily ABAB CDCD in the longer stanzas, with occasional slight variations for natural flow. This balanced, repeating form enhances the poem’s celebratory tone while maintaining accessibility and musicality, making it feel both timeless and intimate.

Lamentations 3:22-23 (ESV)
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

Psalm 118:24 (ESV)
This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.

Each morning when the eyes first open wide,
A wave of holy joy floods through the soul—
One falls upon the knees with arms raised high,
“I am Your child, Lord Jesus—born again!”
No blinding light, no thunder from above,
Yet deep within there rings the victor’s call:
“You are My chosen, purchased by My blood,
Born again—death has lost its hold at all!”

O what a wonder! Every dawn a gift,
Fresh mercy poured from uncreated grace,
Another day to live, to love, to lift
The Kingdom of our risen Lord in every place.
Once dead in sin, now justified by faith,
Adopted child and co-heir with the Son—
The old man crucified, the new man raised,
Forever joined with Christ, the risen One.

Like morning sun that gilds the waking earth,
God’s goodness fills the heart with grateful fire.
One kneels in awe, in thanksgiving, and in mirth,
Once lost—but now alive with new desire!
With every breath a song of praise ascends,
With every heartbeat thanks and glory rise.
The Savior, Jesus Christ, the soul’s true Friend—
In Him we live, redeemed and born again!

Each dawn we fall before the holy name,
Overflowing with joy, with thanks, with flame—
To walk this day and further Christ’s great reign,
Advancing Kingdom light where darkness reigned.

Glory, glory to the Lamb who rose again,
My Lord, my God—forever praised, Amen.

If You Are in Jesus Christ, There Is No Doubt — You Are Greatly Loved by Debbie Harris

20 Wednesday May 2026

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Inspirational

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Dear Precious Reader,

If these words have found their way into your hands, know that they were written with you in mind. In a world that constantly questions our worth, whispers doubts, and measures us by what we do, I wanted to speak a louder, truer word over your heart: If you are in Jesus Christ, there is no doubt — you are greatly loved.This is not a love you must earn. It is not fragile. It does not waver with your feelings, your failures, or your circumstances. It is the steady, nail-scarred, resurrection-strong love of the Savior who calls you His own. My prayer is that these lines would quiet the noise, lift your eyes to Him, and let you rest — truly rest — in the assurance that you are deeply, joyfully, and eternally loved.Whether you are weary, wandering, rejoicing, or simply needing to be reminded today, hear the Father’s voice through these verses: You are Mine, and I am yours.

May His perfect love cast out every fear and fill you with unshakable peace.

With affection and prayers,
A fellow traveler in Christ

Brief Summary (Format and Form):

If You Are in Jesus Christ, There Is No Doubt — You Are Greatly Loved is a Christian poem composed in classical rhyming couplets (AA BB scheme) with a steady, hymn-like rhythm approximating iambic pentameter. The structure flows through six quatrains followed by a short closing triad, creating a gentle progression from doctrinal assurance to personal comfort and eternal hope. Each stanza maintains consistent syllable count and end-rhymes for musicality and memorability, while the overall form employs traditional poetic diction, scriptural imagery (Vine, chains, tempests, nail-scarred hands), and a clear narrative arc that builds toward peaceful resolution. The clean, balanced layout makes it ideal for devotional reading, printing, or public sharing. This format gives the poem a timeless, worshipful quality reminiscent of classic hymns and sacred verse.

Romans 8:1
There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus…


John 15:5
I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing.


Romans 8:38-39
For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

If you are found in Jesus Christ the Lord,
There is no doubt — you are greatly loved, adored.
Not earned by works your trembling hands have wrought,
But freely given, purchased by His blood-bought thought.

No shadow dwells where His sweet mercy shines;
No accusation breaks these holy lines.
The chains that bound you lie in rust below;
Redeemed you stand, washed whiter than the snow.

Though trials come and tempests rage and roar,
The Savior holds you — He has gone before.
Abide in Him, the true and living Vine;
His love is yours, eternally divine.

So rest, beloved, beneath His watchful eye;
Greatly loved, and loved until you die —
Then loved still more when faith is lost in sight,
Forever dwelling in unclouded light.

Cynic and Seer: One Sin, One Gift in the Light of Calvary (rhymed version ) by Debbie Harris

20 Wednesday May 2026

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Inspirational

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Dear Precious Reader,

If these words have found their way into your hands, know that they were written with you in mind.In a world that grows louder with suspicion, it is easy to slip into the cynic’s chair—arms folded, heart guarded, eyes half-closed to beauty. I know this temptation well. Yet I also know the gentle, persistent voice of the Good Shepherd calling us higher: not to naive blindness, but to clear-eyed, Spirit-led discernment. Not to fear, but to wisdom rooted in the Cross.This poem is not a scolding. It is an invitation.An invitation to lay down the heavy crown of ash and disappointment.


An invitation to open your eyes again—to see the thorn and the rose, the wound and the healing, the lie and the truth—all held together in the nail-scarred hands of Jesus.

My prayer for you, dear reader, is that the Holy Spirit would stir within you the rare and beautiful gift of Christlike discernment: a heart that neither hardens nor deceives itself, but loves fiercely while seeing clearly.

May you walk this bruised world with eyes wide open to both the darkness and the Light that overcomes it.
And when cynicism whispers its familiar lies, may you remember Calvary — where even the darkest surrender can be redeemed.

You are not alone in this choice.


Grace is near.

With love and hope in Christ,
The Poet

A Note on the Form

This poem is written in rhyming couplets with a gentle, hymn-like rhythm. The consistent AABB rhyme scheme creates a musical flow that makes the contrast between cynicism and discernment easier to feel and remember. Shorter, sharper lines in the cynicism section give it a heavier, more clipped tone, while the discernment section opens into slightly longer, more graceful phrases. The final stanza acts as a quiet turning point — an invitation that lands with resolve. Biblical imagery is woven naturally throughout, allowing the poem to feel both contemporary and psalm-like. The rhyme was chosen not for ornament, but to lift the truth higher, so the heart might sing it back to itself long after reading.

One poisons the well with a knowing sneer,
Sees every rose as a weed growing near,
Every hand offered a thief in disguise,
Every dawn but a trick for the foolish eyes.
They sit on a throne built of ash and regret,
Laughing at dreamers who still dare to trust yet.
Their tongue cuts like rust, their gaze filters gold,
Missing the Lamb and His scars, brave and bold.
This is cynicism — a sin cloaked as sight,
A heart shut to grace, choosing darkness, not light.
Yet even this shadow, so cold and so grim,
Calvary’s mercy can fully redeem.

The other still walks through this same wounded earth,
But pauses to breathe in the rose’s true worth.
They see every thorn, yet inhale the scent,
As if tasting the garden the Lord first meant.
They weigh every hand with a Spirit-led care,
Not ruled by fear, but by wisdom and prayer.
They name every lie, yet love the lost soul,
Praise every truth while extending the whole.
Their gaze is a lantern, their judgment a door,
Lit by the Spirit, wide open with love evermore.
This is discernment — a gift from the throne,
The mind of Christ in our clay, fully known.

Choose, then, dear soul, which path you will take:
One closes the heart, for protection’s own sake.
The other opens eyes to the One who was slain,
Wounded for us, so our hearts might remain
Alive in His love, redeemed at the Cross —
Where cynic and sinner find gain, not just loss.

Cynic and Seer: One Sin, One Gift in the Light of Calvary (Free verse) by Debbie Harris

20 Wednesday May 2026

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational

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Dear Precious Reader,

If these words have found their way into your hands, know that they were written with you in mind.In a world that grows louder with suspicion, it is easy to slip into the cynic’s chair—arms folded, heart guarded, eyes half-closed to beauty. I know this temptation well. Yet I also know the gentle, persistent voice of the Good Shepherd calling us higher: not to naive blindness, but to clear-eyed, Spirit-led discernment. Not to fear, but to wisdom rooted in the Cross.

This poem is not a scolding. It is an invitation.

An invitation to lay down the heavy crown of ash and disappointment. An invitation to open your eyes again—to see the thorn and the rose, the wound and the healing, the lie and the truth—all held together in the nail-scarred hands of Jesus.

My prayer for you, dear reader, is that the Holy Spirit would stir within you the rare and beautiful gift of Christlike discernment: a heart that neither hardens nor deceives itself, but loves fiercely while seeing clearly.

May you walk this bruised world with eyes wide open to both the darkness and the Light that overcomes it.
And when cynicism whispers its familiar lies, may you remember Calvary — where even the darkest surrender can be redeemed.You are not alone in this choice.


Grace is near.

With love and hope in Christ,

The Poet

A Note on the Form

This poem is written in free verse, deliberately unbound by strict meter or rhyme scheme so the language can breathe with organic rhythm and quiet emotional weight. It unfolds in two mirrored sections — one for the cynic, one for the seer — creating a clear structural contrast that mirrors the heart of the message itself. Each section begins with vivid, parallel imagery (“poisons the well…”, “walks the same bruised world…”) before moving into definition and reflection, allowing the reader to feel the weight of cynicism and then the lift of discernment. Short, punchy lines alternate with longer, flowing ones to control pace: the cynic’s stanza feels heavier and more clipped, while the seer’s opens up with grace and spaciousness. The final “Choose, then” stanza serves as a quiet hinge, turning the poem from description into personal invitation. Biblical echoes and Christ-centered imagery are woven throughout without forcing traditional religious forms, letting the poem stand as both contemporary free verse and a gentle call to Christlike wisdom. The result is a form that is contemplative rather than performative — shaped not to impress, but to invite the reader deeper into their own heart before the Cross.


One poisons the well with a knowing sneer,
calls every rose a weed in disguise,
every hand extended a thief’s reach,
every dawn a trick the light plays on fools.
They sit enthroned in their own disappointment,
crowned in ash, laughing low at those
who still dare to trust the Father’s hand.
Their tongue is sharp as rust,
their eyes two slits that filter out the gold
and miss the Lamb who bears the scars.
That is cynicism—
a sin dressed as wisdom,
a heart closed to grace,
a slow surrender to the dark
that Calvary can redeem.

The other walks the same bruised world
but pauses at the rose,
turns the leaf, finds the thorn,
then still inhales the scent
as if breathing in the garden of God.
They weigh the hand before they take it—
not with fear, but with the quiet sight
that comes from abiding in the Vine.
They name the lie without hating the liar,
praise the truth with the mercy of the Cross,
seeing clearly by the light of Christ.
Their gaze is a lantern lit by the Spirit,
their judgment a door swung wide by love.
That is discernment—
a gift poured out from the throne,
the mind of Christ within the clay,
the rare art of seeing all things
as they are held in nail-scarred hands.

Choose, then.
One closes the heart to protect it from pain.
The other opens the eyes to the One
who was wounded for our transgressions—
so the heart may stay alive in Him,
redeemed at Calvary.

Feathered with Mercy, Tipped with Truth: The Complex Grace of Holy Boldness by Debbie Harris

20 Wednesday May 2026

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational

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Dear Precious Reader,

I wrote this poem with trembling hands and a burning heart. In a world that so often confuses volume with courage and sharpness with strength, I felt the Spirit whisper a deeper invitation: to be bold without becoming harsh, to speak truth without wounding for the sake of wounding. This is not a rebuke of passion — far from it. It is a love letter to the narrow path where the lion and the lamb walk together. True boldness in Christ is not loud; it is clear. It is not rude; it is fearless. It is feathered with mercy so that when it flies, it pierces lies without destroying hearts. My prayer is that these words would stir something holy in you — a courage that is gentle, a fire that warms rather than consumes, and a love that refuses to stay silent. May you carry this tension well: humble enough to listen, brave enough to speak, and Christlike enough to do both at the same time. You are not called to be obnoxious for Jesus. You are called to be like Him.

With affection and hope,

The Poet

Structure Summary:

The piece follows a clean, layered structure that opens with the main title “Feathered with Mercy, Tipped with Truth” and its subtitle “The Complex Grace of Holy Boldness”. Immediately beneath the title sits a rich Scripture epigraph featuring all six KJV verses stacked one after another in italics, each followed by its reference. This scriptural foundation is then followed directly by the full poem, presented under the title and rendered in its original free-verse stanzas with natural line breaks and spacing. The overall flow moves from Title → Scripture → Poetry, creating a reverent and focused progression that feels intentional.

But speaking the truth in love, may grow up into him in all things, which is the head, even Christ:
— Ephesians 4:15

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, Meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.
— Galatians 5:22-23

Now I Paul myself beseech you by the meekness and gentleness of Christ, who in presence am base among you, but being absent am bold toward you:
— 2 Corinthians 10:1

“The wicked flee when no man pursueth: but the righteous are bold as a lion.”
— Proverbs 28:1

And now, Lord, behold their threatenings: and grant unto thy servants, that with all boldness they may speak thy word,
— Acts 4:29

For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.
— 2 Timothy 1:7

In the quiet forge where the Spirit breathes,
a flame is kindled — not wildfire, but steady gold.
Boldness in Christ rises like dawn on the sea,
not the crash of cymbals demanding to be heard,
but the clear note of a trumpet carried on wind.

It is courage clothed in kindness,
a lion’s heart wrapped in the wool of the Lamb.
Not the swagger of swords drawn too soon,
nor the noise that scatters the wounded,
but the steady gaze of love that refuses to flinch
when truth must stand naked before the crowd.

The fruit hangs heavy on one Tree:
love first, then joy, peace, patience —
gentleness holding the reins of power.
Boldness is no orphan virtue;
it walks hand-in-hand with self-control,
lest it stumble into the ditch of pride
and call its own echo “prophecy.”

How complex the dance, how narrow the blade —
to speak fire without scorching the tender reed,
to overturn tables yet wash the feet of betrayers,
to declare “Thus says the Lord”
while tears carve rivers down the same cheeks.

Obnoxious is easy; flesh loves volume,
loves the thrill of being right and loud together.
But the Spirit’s boldness is harder —
a whisper that splits mountains,
a stillness that routs armies,
a cross lifted high in the teeth of empire
without a single curse flung back.

So let us be bold, beloved,
as arrows loosed from the Archer’s hand —
feathered with mercy, tipped with truth,
straight, swift, and singing.
Aimed not to wound for wounding’s sake
but to pierce the lie and heal the heart.

For the same Spirit that made Peter roar at Pentecost
also made him weep outside the high priest’s door.
Boldness without love is brass.
Love without boldness is shadow.
Together they are Christ —
crucified, risen, and still speaking
through clay jars that tremble,
yet refuse to be silent.

Walk then in this holy tension:
humble enough to listen,
brave enough to answer,
gentle enough to be heard,
and fierce enough to be faithful.
This is the fruit —
ripened in secret,
offered in public,
sweet and sharp on the tongue of a broken world.

Not Thunder’s Roar but Gentle Rain: The True Fruit of the Spirit by Debbie Harris

20 Wednesday May 2026

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Pleasing God Not Man

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Dear Precious Reader,

In the body of Christ—His beautiful, blood-bought Church—there should be no place for the loud, the domineering, or the unteachable. Yet how often do we encounter the boisterous know-it-all? The one whose voice drowns out every other, whose “I already know” shuts down conversation, whose pride masquerades as spiritual confidence? This grieves the Holy Spirit. The poem you have just read was born from that grief and from a longing for something better. Too many in Christendom today speak with thunder but little fruit. They claim to stand for truth while trampling the very graces that prove the truth is alive in them: love that listens, patience that makes room, gentleness that soothes, and self-control that bridles the tongue. The Scripture is clear. The fruit of the Spirit is not optional decoration—it is the natural harvest of a life yielded to God. Where arrogance grows thorns, the Spirit desires to grow holy and humble things. This poem is both a warning and an invitation: a warning against the corrupted tree of self, and a tender call to every heart (including my own) to release the braggart’s noisy chain and let the Gardener do His quiet, transforming work.

May these words stir reflection rather than accusation. May we examine ourselves. And may the Church once again be known not for its volume, but for its fruit.

With prayer and affection,
The Poet

Poem Format Summary

The poem is structured as a series of seven quatrains (four-line stanzas) followed by a closing rhyming couplet, creating a balanced, hymn-like progression that moves from observation to contrast, exposition, and final exhortation. It employs a consistent ABAB rhyme scheme throughout the quatrains, with strong, classical-sounding end rhymes that feel both timeless and accessible. The meter is predominantly iambic pentameter (approximately ten syllables per line with an unstressed-stressed rhythm), giving the piece a smooth, natural flow when read aloud while allowing subtle variations for emphasis. Modern phrasing blends seamlessly with elevated, biblical imagery, and strategic enjambment and dashes create thoughtful pauses without disrupting the overall rhythmic unity. This classical-yet-contemporary format reinforces the poem’s gentle, reflective tone—mirroring the very Fruit of the Spirit it celebrates.

Galatians 5:22-23 (KJV)

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.

In ancient halls where wisdom’s voices call,
Where prophets’ words in golden letters shine,
The Spirit’s fruit descends like gentle rain—
Not thunder’s roar or pride’s unyielding line.

Behold the one who loudly claims the right,
With bossy tongue that bends all wills to break;
A know-it-all whose gaze rejects the light
Of every other, scorning what they say.

Such fruit grows thorns from self’s corrupted tree,
Refusing ears to hear another’s plea;
No love that listens, no peace that bends the knee,
But only storm where meekness ought to be.

Yet gentle Spirit whispers soft and true:
Love stands with patience where arrogance would shove;
Joy blooms in quiet hearts, not noisy show;
Peace reigns when pride makes room for others’ good.

Kindness turns the other cheek, not rules with rod;
Goodness seeks the good in every view;
Faith walks in trust, not trampling paths untrod;
Gentleness soothes where bossy tempers flew.

Self-control becomes a bridle on the tongue,
It bows to learn where “I know best” once sung.
These are the harvest heaven’s Gardener brings—
Not clamor’s crown, but humble, holy things.

O heart, release the braggart’s noisy chain,
And let the Spirit’s virtues bloom again!

The Last Shall Be First by Debbie Harris

20 Wednesday May 2026

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Praise

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Dear Precious Reader,

I have always been fascinated by this verse and all its depth, beauty, and complexity. The simple words “the last shall be first and the first shall be last” have echoed through centuries, quietly overturning every worldly measure of success, status, and value. In Christ’s eyes, the hidden and the humble often shine brightest, while the proud and powerful are gently set aside. This paradox comforts the overlooked and challenges the exalted — reminding us that who Heaven prizes could indeed be a surprise.It is my prayer that this poem stirs your heart to recognize the quiet glory in the “least of these,” to honor those who serve in humility (whether they have little or much), and to live with the joyful hope that heaven’s final accounting — inscrutable to human eyes — is already written in the ink of redeeming love.

May you be blessed as you read.

The Poet

Brief Summary of the Poem’s Format (in paragraph form):

This poem, titled The Last Shall Be First, is a literary lyric piece composed of 42 lines arranged in six stanzas of varying length. It is written primarily in iambic pentameter, giving each line a natural, rhythmic flow of ten syllables with five stressed beats. The overall tone is contemplative and reverent, blending vivid imagery with quiet prophetic weight.The rhyme structure follows a flexible yet consistent pattern, mostly alternating ABAB or ABCB schemes, with occasional rhyming couplets at the close of stanzas for added emphasis and emotional resonance. A sophisticated blend of perfect rhymes and subtle slant rhymes creates musicality without rigidity, allowing the poem to feel both elegant and accessible. Frequent enjambment carries thoughts smoothly from one line to the next, mirroring the gentle, unfolding nature of the poem’s central paradox.This formal structure provides a sense of order and beauty while supporting the theme’s subversive message — traditional on the surface, yet quietly transformative in spirit.

In marble halls where echoes boast of gold,
The first sit throned in silken certainty,
Their laughter sharp as coins on counting boards,
While shadows lengthen at the outer door.
They feast on futures, mortgage mercy’s name,
And measure worth by what their ledgers claim.

Yet some among the first have bowed the knee—
Rich hands that build, not hoard; hearts Christ-possessed.
They raise up schools where beggars’ children read,
Pour wealth like wine for country, church, and need.
Their mansions open wide to serve the least;
Their ledgers bleed with love’s accounting sheet.
These, too, in Christ’s own eyes are lifted high,
Though earth still calls their glory passing by.

But at the gate, where beggars bow like reeds
Before the wind of every passing heel,
The least of these—barefoot, with trembling hands—
Collect the crusts the world forgets to yield.
Their eyes are wells no ledger ever fathomed;
Their rags, the hidden glory of the real.

In Christ’s own eyes the trumpet sounds unseen—
A quiet dawn that turns the tables true.
The self-exalting first are last, their crowns
Of laurel ash beneath a heaven’s view.
While beggars rise in robes no tailor wove,
And humble rich walk streets of living gold.

The widow’s mite, the leper’s quiet plea,
The orphan’s hand, the magnate’s open store—
All these, when given for the King’s own sake,
Are first in eyes that see the heart’s true core.
No worldly trumpet, no earthly roar
Can change what Christ has weighed forevermore.

O paradox that burns the heart like fire,
That justice wears the face of those we scorned!
The least of these—dismissed, despised, denied—
Are highest where the world’s gaze never turned.
And we who pass them daily on the street
May yet discover Christ has crowned the least.

When God Gives Wings: Strength, Wisdom, and Power for the Impossible Task by Debbie Harris

19 Tuesday May 2026

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

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Dear Precious Reader,

In the poem, When God Gives Wings, a soul stands before a task so immense and impossible that no human strength, wisdom, or ability could ever accomplish it. Yet in tender mercy, God breathes upon the weary and grants divine wings—wings not of this earth, but straight from heaven itself. With immeasurable strength, supernatural ability, and heavenly wisdom poured out, what once loomed as an unscalable mountain is not only overcome but joyfully soared over. The impossible becomes a living testimony of God’s limitless power. The poem overflows with wonder at the miracle, awe at God’s greatness, adoration for the King who stoops low to lift the weak, and deep thanksgiving for His faithful presence and empowering grace. It is a gentle yet powerful invitation to every tired heart facing the impossible: When God calls you, He fully equips you. He gives wings so that you may fly.May these words stir your faith and fill you with fresh courage.

With joy and blessing,

In the hush of dawn where miracles ignite,
God breathes upon the weary child of light.
He grants these wings—not feathered, frail, or bound—
But heaven’s own, where earth and glory kiss the ground.

A task that seemed impossible, immense,
Loomed like a mountain none could hope to crest.
Yet wonder floods the soul like endless sea,
As mortal limits break in holy liberty!

The spirit rises, not by merit, weak and small,
But by the hand that holds the stars, the all.
Awe trembles deeply, vast and deep and wide,
As immeasurable strength like rivers surges, sanctified.

God pours out wisdom, vast and pure and bright,
And ability that shatters every height.
No longer chained to doubt or fear’s cold grasp,
His power thunders—lightning in the clasp!

Adoration swells, a holy, burning flame,
To You, O Sovereign—matchless is Your name!
The King stoops low from throne of endless light
To arm the weak with unconquerable might.

Thanksgiving pours like incense, sweet and free,
For every impossible task the Lord has called this soul to see.
He bends the heavens, walks beside the way,
Empowering feet that once would falter, hearts that now obey.

How marvelous, this gift beyond all words—
The Creator lending wings to flightless birds!
The spirit soars through heights of glory, pure and strong,
Because the King of kings has made the soul strong.

All praise, all glory, adoration, love
Ascend to God who equips from realms above.
In wonder, awe, and grateful hearts they sing:
When God gives wings, the impossible takes flight!