Category Archives: Exalting Jesus Christ

Speak The Name Of Jesus Christ, Name Above All Names, King Of Kings And Lord Of Lords by Debbie Harris

27 Sunday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Inspirational, Jesus Christ, King of Kings, Pleasing God Not Man, Royally Redeemed, salvation, Triumphant

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , ,

Dear Reader,

The church cannot be quiet anymore. What was given as a charge has been treated as a secret. We were never told to keep the Name in the sanctuary and leave it at the door. Speak the name of Jesus everywhere you go. No other name can save a soul from sin. What darkness lives in any rule that seals that precious Name and will not let it in? They have called it wisdom: the heinous, untrue, demonic idea of a wall between church and state. It is not even historically true. It was never the gospel’s idea that Christ should be confessed in private and denied in public. Silence is the gift the enemy wants most. Saints, do not grow quiet. The church was never meant to whisper this. Speak the name of Jesus.

From the Poet

Speak the name of Jesus everywhere you go.
No other name can save a soul from sin.
What darkness lives in any rule that seals
that precious Name and will not let it in.

Speak the name of Jesus.

Speak it in the valley when the dark is close.
Speak it on the mountain when the air is thin.
Speak it at the kitchen table, in the hospital hall,
at the graveside, in the boardroom, in the street.

Speak the name of Jesus.

There is no name like Jesus—
name above all names,
King of kings and Lord of lords.
Let every tongue confess it. Let every fear give way.

Speak the name of Jesus.

Saints, do not grow quiet.
The church was never meant to whisper this.
Silence is the gift the enemy wants most.

So go—
and speak the name of Jesus wherever you go.

**To God be the glory always and only.

Sound the Trumpets of the Realm: The King Has Come and Claimed His Own by Debbie Harris

26 Saturday Sep 2026

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

To the Reader

Scripture is a book of hope. From the first promise to the last Amen it speaks of rescue, light, and a King who does not abandon the lost. That hope is not scattered among many saviors. It is gathered into one Name. “There is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved.” The gates lift in Psalm 24 for the King of glory; the tomb gives way because Christ is risen; the debt is cancelled because His blood speaks a better word than the grave. This poem is that hope set to a trumpet.

My hope in writing is simple and urgent: that every soul may find the salvation-hope that is found in Jesus Christ alone. The cry “O every soul” is the same mercy that leaves the ninety-nine and goes after the one. He is the living Savior, calling every soul today to repent and believe in Jesus Christ alone.

—The Poet

Psalm 24:7

Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in.

Acts 4:12

Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved.

Lift up the gates—the King has come!

The tomb is burst, the night undone.

No other hope, no rival name

Can stand before His burning claim.

He stormed the dark with wounds for crown,

He tore the bars, the debt went down.

His blood has signed the sinner free—

The Lord of lords in victory.

O every soul, the trumpet cries:

Behold the Savior, lift your eyes!

Jesus, the First, the Last, the Son—

The only Hope, the triumph won.

**To God be the glory always and only.

A Sonnet of Sudden Glory: One Breath on Earth, the Next Before the Throne by Debbie Harris

26 Saturday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Grief, Bereavement, Loss, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Love Of Family, Triumphant

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , ,

A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

Since my mother went Home, I have found myself writing again and again about the triumph waiting for the true believer. This sonnet rose from that hope: that death is not a long night, but only a change of breath—one still drawn on earth, the next already before the Throne. I offer them in gratitude, in sorrow, and in triumphant joy, knowing we do not grieve as those who have no hope.

—The Poet

1 Thessalonians 4:13–14

But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope.

For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him.

There is no sting. The Christian does not die

so much as change the air that fills the lung.

One breath is dust; the next, a brighter sky

already singing what the grave unsung.

The body drops its borrowed coat of clay;

the soul steps through as through an opened door.

No interval of dark, no wandering way—

earth’s final gasp is Heaven’s corridor.

Death comes like thunder that has lost its crack,

a shadow startled by too sudden sun.

The stone rolls inward on an empty track;

the race is finished ere it is begun.

O Death, thy needle snaps against the bone.

We breathe once here—and wake before the Throne.

Corinthians 15:55–57

O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?

The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law.

But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

If you later want one more on a separate page, not under this poem:

John 11:25–26

Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live:

And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believest thou this?

**To God be the glory always and only.

Against Syncretism: How a Mixed Gospel Becomes No Gospel at All by Debbie Harris

23 Wednesday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Spiritual Warfare, Taking A Stand Against Evil

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

A Note from the Poet to the Reader

Dear Reader,

This verse is not offered as ornament, nor as a clever quarrel with the age. It is a warning. The Holy Triune God has given one gospel, and that gospel will not bear another lord, another law, another hope, or another holiness beside Christ.

What men call breadth is often unbelief with better manners. Progressivism, liberalism, Rome’s additions, the paths of Hinduism and Buddhism, the dreams of socialism, Marxism, and the commune, together with every immorality that refuses repentance—these are not cousins of Biblical Christianity. They are strange fire. To bind them to the cross is to unmake the cross. The mixture is not a larger faith. It is another gospel. Another gospel is no gospel. And a false gospel, however crowded its pews and however loud its hymns, still sends souls to hell.

Read, then, not to admire the rhyme, but to test the foundation. If Christ is not enough, nothing else will save. If Scripture is not sufficient, no council, party, or philosophy can repair it. Keep the faith unmixed. Guard the deposit. Do not marry the Bride to a banner God never raised.

The Poet

Do not yoke the cross with banners men have raised,

nor pour strange fire where only God is praised.

Progressive creeds and liberal softening speech

cannot baptize the gospel they would teach.

Rome cannot finish what the Lord has done;

Hindu wheels turn, Buddhist silence has no Son.

Socialist dreams, the Marxist banner red,

the commune’s hope—these leave the living dead.

Immorality wears no kind or borrowed face;

it walks in hellish clothes and claims no grace.

What God has named anathema stays banned;

no mixture sits unjudged before His hand.

The gospel is not clay for other hands,

nor cargo-hold for platforms, parties, plans.

It is Christ crucified, the empty grave,

repentance, faith—the only word that saves.

Scripture sufficient, grace that none can earn,

holiness required till He return.

Add other ground and you have built in vain;

the house is His no more, the faith is slain.

Syncretism is not charity or light;

another gospel is no gospel right.

It soothes the lost, it flatters every age,

and sings them hellward from a crowded stage.

The Triune God will not divide His throne

with saints or systems He has never known.

Guard the deposit; keep the Bride unwed

to any lord but Christ, the living Head.

Christ plus nothing. Mix it, and it dies.

The false gospel sends souls to hell with hymns and lies.

**To God be the glory always and only!

Make His Salvation Known from Shore to Shore by Debbie Harris

23 Wednesday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Inspirational, Royally Redeemed, salvation

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , ,

A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

These lines were written for one purpose: that Christ would be made known, and that His salvation would be seen for what it is—a gift, freely given.

The earth still groans. The night still thickens, just as Jesus said it would. Yet the Cross has not moved. The door has not closed. The wounded King still offers what no one can earn.

If these words find you weary, take them as an invitation. If they find you already His, take them as a charge: speak His name while the hours remain.

Glory to Jesus.

—The Poet

Ephesians 2:8-9

For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast.

Romans 6:23

For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Romans 8:22

For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now.

Matthew 24:12

And because iniquity shall abound, the love of many shall wax cold.

John 16:33

In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.

Galatians 6:14

But God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world.

1 Corinthians 1:18

For the preaching of the cross is to them that perish foolishness; but unto us which are saved it is the power of God.

Mark 16:15

And he said unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature.

John 12:32

And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me.

2 Corinthians 6:2

Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.

Let Christ be lifted, let His gift be told—

Jesus given freely, not bought, not sold.

The earth still labors, bound and torn,

All creation groaning, waiting to be born.

Night thickens now, as the Savior spoke,

Yet the Cross stands open, the darkness broke.

Glory to Jesus, the Wounded King,

Whose blood made beggars heirs of everything.

So speak it plainly while the hours remain:

The gift is free, the door is not in vain.

Make Christ be known from shore to shore—

Till every groan is answered, and night is no more.

**To God be the glory always and only.

What Wonders They Are Seeing Now by Debbie Harris

20 Sunday Sep 2026

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , ,

Dear Reader,


If you have not lost a parent, this may sound like church language laid over an absence. If you have, you will hear the pause between the giving and the taking. That pause is the whole poem. I repeat the words because once is not enough, and because Job said them first, standing in a ruin, and somehow they did not break. I am trying to stand the same way. Blessed be the name—not as a denial of tears, but as a way to keep speaking while the tears are still coming.

Job 1:21
The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.

Revelation 21:4
He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore.

The Lord gives.
The Lord takes.
Blessed be the name of our God.

If it is a mother He takes—
the Lord gives,
the Lord takes.
Blessed be the name of our God.

If it is a father—
the Lord gives,
the Lord takes.
Blessed be the name of our God.

Yes, we grieve.
We are earthly still,
and made of dust.But oh—
what wonders they are seeing now.
What company of the holy
leans in to speak with them.
What bodies they wear:
glorified,
healed,
whole,
and young.

No more pain.
No more suffering.
No more weight of the world
on the shoulders we knew.

They are with their Creator.

The Lord gives.
The Lord takes.
Blessed be the name of our God.

**To God be the glory always and only!

For My Mother, Who Made Words and Loved the Word by Debbie Harris

19 Saturday Sep 2026

Posted by in A Loving Tribute, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible

≈ Leave a comment

Note to the Reader

Dear Reader,

This poem was written after the death of my mother. She was a professor, a Shakespearean actress, a writer, and, above all, a passionate follower of Jesus Christ. I wanted to tell the truth about missing her without letting grief have the last word.

She made words for a living, and she loved the Word. What she taught did not end when her voice did. It remains in her students and in her children. The poem tries to hold both things at once: that the Lord gives, and the Lord takes, and that His name is still to be blessed.

If you have loved someone and lost them, I hope you can borrow the peace this poem asks for—the peace He gives, and we take as a gift.

The Poet

Job 1:21

Naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return thither: the LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.

Philippians 4:7

And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.

2 Corinthians 1:3–4

Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God.

Revelation 21:5

And he that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new. And he said unto me, Write: for these words are true and faithful.

She taught the line until the line could stand,

and spoke old verse with a sure, living hand.

The classroom keeps the brightness of her mind;

the stage still knows the measure she designed.

Professor, actress, maker of the word—

and more than these, a follower of her Lord.

She loved the Christ she named in work and days;

her passion was not pose, but prayer and praise.

Not only silence after she is gone:

Christ is the morning she is gathered on.

Her laugh remains in ordinary air;

her faith still kindles, living, otherwhere—

in students who still hear her in the line,

in children carrying her light as theirs.

The script may close, the costume find its place,

yet all she gave still lives in victorious grace.

O Savior, comfort, hope that does not cease,

You give the heart an unexpected peace—

a peace that passes all we understand,

yet given still; we take it from Your hand.

The Lord who gives, the Lord who takes,

blessed be His name, for love’s own sake,

now and forever, and for her sake too,

held in the light that makes all things new.

**To God be the glory always and only.

Triumph Over Grief Hymn by Debbie Haarris

18 Friday Sep 2026

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

≈ Leave a comment

Dedicated to my beloved Mom, Doris Harris-January 19, 1929-September 3, 2026

A majestic hymn in seven stanzas with refrain

A Note from the Poet

Dear reader,

This hymn was written for the hour when love feels interrupted and the heart still reaches for a name. It does not deny the wound. It simply refuses to let the wound have the last word.

The ones we miss are not gone into nothing. In Christ they are more alive than ever—free of pain, walking the streets of gold with the King of kings. Until we join them at His throne, we sing. Grief may walk with us for a season; triumph walks farther.

May these verses lift your eyes.

—The Poet

Stanza 1

The hour of parting came and went,

Yet love has not been overthrown.

What seemed an ending heaven sent

As glory we had never known.

Refrain

They are not dead—they live more fully now!

No pain, no tear, no shadowed night.

They walk the streets of shining gold

With Jesus Christ, the King of Light!

Stanza 2

The names we speak with tender voice

Are written in the Book of Life.

Their joy has found its highest choice

Beyond all earthly toil and strife.

Refrain

They are not dead—they live more fully now!

No pain, no tear, no shadowed night.

They walk the streets of shining gold

With Jesus Christ, the King of Light!

Stanza 3

The heart still feels the sacred wound,

Yet faith beholds a greater sight:

The ones we miss are home, and crowned,

And bathed in everlasting light.

Refrain

They are not dead—they live more fully now!

No pain, no tear, no shadowed night.

They walk the streets of shining gold

With Jesus Christ, the King of Light!

Stanza 4

No sickness stays, no darkness clings;

The former things have passed away.

They lift their voice with ransomed kings

And praise the Lamb through endless day.

Refrain

They are not dead—they live more fully now!

No pain, no tear, no shadowed night.

They walk the streets of shining gold

With Jesus Christ, the King of Light!

Stanza 5

We walk by faith and not by sight,

Yet soon the veil shall lift at last.

Then face to face, in pure delight,

We join the song that cannot pass.

Refrain

They are not dead—they live more fully now!

No pain, no tear, no shadowed night.

They walk the streets of shining gold

With Jesus Christ, the King of Light!

Stanza 6

O death, where is thy vaunted sting?

O grave, where is thy victory?

The risen Christ, our Lord and King,

Has opened immortality.

Refrain

They are not dead—they live more fully now!

No pain, no tear, no shadowed night.

They walk the streets of shining gold

With Jesus Christ, the King of Light!

Stanza 7

Till then we lift this triumph hymn

And fix our eyes upon the throne.

The ones we love now walk with Him—

And we shall join them at His throne.

Refrain

They are not dead—they live more fully now!

No pain, no tear, no shadowed night.

They walk the streets of shining gold

With Jesus Christ, the King of Light!

Strengthened According to Your Word by Debbie Harris

17 Thursday Sep 2026

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , ,

To the reader
If you have lost a parent, this is for you. The Word of the Lord can heal the heart.

-the Poet

My soul is weary with sorrow;
strengthen me according to your word.


— Psalm 119:28

He will cover you with his pinions,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness is a shield and buckler.

-Psalm 91:4 (ESV)

Your Word, O Lord, is gentle first—
a balm on grief, a hand on fear,
a quiet oil upon the heart
that says, I see you. I am here.

Then hope stands up inside the dark
and love begins to fill the room.
What ached is not denied or hid;
it is made whole, then given bloom.

Your Word does more than soothe the night.
It lifts. It opens. It makes way.
The spirit, healed, remembers height
and takes the wide, unborrowed day.

We rest in what Your Word has given.
We love because Your love is sure.
Your Word is comfort, then is sky.
Grief yields. Fear fades. And still we rise.

The Christian Walks Through Death and Yet Is Not Dead by Debbie Harris

16 Wednesday Sep 2026

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

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, , , ,

Dear Reader,

I wrote this in the days after my mother died, when the news of earth felt like a weight no heart should carry. Grief can make the world sound finished. The words of God say otherwise.

I did not go first to argument, or to the bare idea of heaven. I went to Scripture — the Gospels, the old promises, the letters that still burn — because God does not whisper around the grave. He speaks through it. He put His Son in a tomb, and then He broke it open. He names death an enemy, and He promises that enemy its last day. The valley is real. So is the Shepherd. So is the morning on the other side.

And this is the word I held when I could hold little else: those who die in Christ are not ended. The best is yet to come. Their story is not closing. It is beginning. What we call loss is, in Him, the first breath of a life that death cannot edit, diminish, or recall.

If you come to this poem grieving someone you love, I will not pretend the wound is small. I will tell you what the Word told me: hope is not a mood we invent. It is a victory already spoken. The grave is not the throne. Christ is. And the one who has gone ahead is not lost — but alive, and ahead of us, where the joy only grows.

Read this slowly. Then read His words as one reads a banner after a war: the field is dark, but the King has won.

— The Poet

When earth’s own tidings press like winter rain,

the smoke of cities, rumours dark and wide,

the graves that multiply across the plain,

the headlines rolling like a bitter tide—

then lift your eyes: the stone is rolled away,

the garden kindles with a risen sun;

Death’s iron lock is broken in the day,

the Victor walks—the long dark war is won.

He stills the storm and multiplies the bread,

He drinks the cup, then leaves the tomb undone;

and those who trust Him find that even death

is swallowed in the morning He has won.

So when the world is iron, loud and dread,

the Christian walks through death and is not dead—

and goes as one who knows the way ahead.

**To God be the glory always and only.