Category Archives: Holy Bible

“Ye Shall Not Add… Neither Shall Ye Diminish”:A Cry Against the Alteration of God’s Holy Word by Debbie Harris

20 Thursday Nov 2025

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

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he poem is a fierce, urgent warning that the single most soul-destroying habit a person can adopt is to tamper with the Word of God (adding to it, subtracting from it, softening it, or reinterpreting it to suit human preference).

It portrays such alteration as a slow-acting but lethal poison: a tiny change (one jot, one tittle) seems harmless at first, yet it quietly corrupts the heart, removes the anchor of truth, and ultimately leaves the soul shipwrecked and estranged from God.

Modern attempts to “update” or “humanize” Scripture are exposed as proud rebellion: men making themselves kinder than God and forging a false mercy that becomes an eternal funeral pyre.

The closing charge is absolute: lay down the pen, touch not one syllable, stand in awe and trembling. Better to be broken by the unflinching rod of the true Word than to die smiling under a counterfeit gospel. The words of Scripture are settled forever; to meddle with them is to invite spiritual ruin.

  • Deuteronomy 4:2
    Ye shall not add unto the word which I command you, neither shall ye diminish ought from it, that ye may keep the commandments of the LORD your God which I command you.
  • Deuteronomy 12:32
    What thing soever I command you, observe to do it: thou shalt not add thereto, nor diminish from it.
  • Proverbs 30:5-6
    Every word of God is pure: he is a shield unto them that put their trust in him. Add thou not unto his words, lest he reprove thee, and thou be found a liar.
  • Joshua 1:7
    Only be thou strong and very courageous, that thou mayest observe to do according to all the law, which Moses my servant commanded thee: turn not from it to the right hand or to the left, that thou mayest prosper whithersoever thou goest.
  • Jeremiah 26:2
    Thus saith the LORD; Stand in the court of the LORD’s house, and speak unto all the cities of Judah, which come to worship in the LORD’s house, all the words that I command thee to speak unto them; diminish not a word.
  • Matthew 5:18-19
    For verily I say unto you, Till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law, till all be fulfilled. Whosoever therefore shall break one of these least commandments, and shall teach men so, he shall be called the least in the kingdom of heaven: but whosoever shall do and teach them, the same shall be called great in the kingdom of heaven.
  • Galatians 1:8-9
    But though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any other gospel unto you than that which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed. As we said before, so say I now again, If any man preach any other gospel unto you than that ye have received, let him be accursed.
  • Revelation 22:18-19
    For I testify unto every man that heareth the words of the prophecy of this book, If any man shall add unto these things, God shall add unto him the plagues that are written in this book: And if any man shall take away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God shall take away his part out of the book of life, and out of the holy city, and from the things which are written in this book.

Beware the hand that dares to bend
The living Word to private end;
No poison drips so slow, so sure,
No blade cuts deeper, none more pure
Than subtle change of what God said,
A shifted line, a verse half-dead.

The soul that drinks that altered stream
Will sicken in a silent dream;
First taste seems sweet, the change so small,
A jot, a tittle, that is all.
Yet day by day the fever grows,
Till truth lies bleeding no one knows.

Men call it wisdom, call it light,
To trim the Word for modern sight;
They soften threats, they blunt the rod,
And crown themselves more kind than God.
But mercy forged in human fire
Becomes the soul’s eternal pyre.

I’ve seen the wreck on every shore—
The heart that thought it needed more
Than what was written, plain and clear;
It added comfort, stifled fear,
Then woke to find the anchor gone,
And every star of guidance none.

O trembling hand, lay down the pen,
Let not one sacred syllable bend!
The Book that thunders, “Do not add,”
Still holds the power to make hearts glad
Or break them on the whetstone true;
Its ruin is its healing too.

Touch not the Word, though curiosity burn;
The soul that tampers shall itself be torn.
Better to bleed beneath the rod
Than smile forever estranged from God.
Stand trembling, stand in dust and awe—
The Word is settled. That is all.

In Awe of How God Provides for His Own by Debbie Harris

20 Thursday Nov 2025

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

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The poem is a lyrical meditation on the wonder of divine provision. Drawing from biblical images (sparrows, ravens and widows, manna, water from the rock, Daniel in the lions’ den, Shadrach and his friends in the furnace, Sarah’s laughter, restored lepers, multiplied loaves), it celebrates God’s miraculous, often extravagant care for His people.

It portrays a God who turns scarcity into abundance, danger into safety, and emptiness into overflowing grace. Nothing is wasted in His economy; even tears and lost years are redeemed. The tone is one of stunned gratitude before the “scandalous arithmetic” of a Provider who refuses to let His own go hungry, leaving the speaker (and reader) in speechless awe and worship.

The sparrow lifts on a wind it never earned,
wings tipped with light that was not its making;
it drinks from a puddle cupped in broken stone—
a chalice the storm forgot to shatter.

A widow counts two coins that should have been one,
yet the jar keeps breathing flour, the jug keeps bleeding oil;
the prophet’s raven drops bread like dark forgiveness
on a fugitive hiding from his own prayers.

Out of the cracked heart of a rock, water remembers
how to be generous;
manna falls like slow punctuation
in the long sentence of the wilderness.

Even the lions in their hunger learn restraint
when a man stands in their den humming psalms;
the fourth figure walks the furnace, unconsumed,
cooling the flames with the hem of mercy.

See the childless womb that suddenly laughs,
the prisoner whose chains fall off like old skin,
the leper who reaches, and instead of losing a hand
finds it wrapped in new flesh.

Nothing is wasted—
not the five loaves, not the tears, not the years eaten by locusts.
He keeps every sparrow in a ledger of love
and every hair numbered like stars in a private sky.

So we stand, beggars who wake up rich,
carrying empty cups that keep overflowing,
stunned into worship by the scandalous arithmetic
of a God who will not let His own go hungry.

Amen.

One Savior, One Song, One King: Sonnet of a Heart Tuned Forever to the Praise of the Lamb Who Was Slain by Debbie Harris

17 Monday Nov 2025

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

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Romans 11:33–36 (KJV)

³³ O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!
³⁴ For who hath known the mind of the Lord? or who hath been his counsellor?
³⁵ Or who hath first given to him, and it shall be recompensed unto him again?
³⁶ For of him, and through him, and to him, are all things: to whom be glory for ever. Amen.

From Him the morning breaks and stars are born,
Through Him the cross, the empty tomb, the grace;
His wounded hands still hold the world He swore
To buy with blood and crown with royal race.
No breath is mine but what His mercy gave,
No crown I’ll wear but what His sorrow wrought;
Each moment, talent, tear, from cradle-grave
Is owed, is owned, is only His by right.
Then let no rival glory claim one sigh—
No dream, no fear, no pleasure steal His due;
My waking, working, weeping, living, die:
All fuel to blaze one fire forever true.
To Him alone be glory, now, alway;
My heart, my life, my all—His endless day.

Of Him, through Him, and to Him alone
are all things. To Him be glory forever. Amen.

I Have Nothing to Glory In But the Cross of Jesus Christ by Debbie Harris

16 Sunday Nov 2025

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

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Summary of the Poem

The poem, inspired by Galatians 6:14, expresses the speaker’s rejection of worldly pride—wealth, power, wisdom, and fame—as empty and fleeting. Instead, it celebrates exclusive glory in the cross of Jesus Christ, portrayed as the ultimate symbol of divine love, redemption, and sacrifice. Through vivid imagery of the crucifixion, it contrasts human vanity with the transformative power of Christ’s death, which breaks sin’s chains, heals the broken, and offers eternal hope. The speaker vows lifelong devotion to this “scandalous” truth, culminating in heavenly glory.

(A poem inspired by Galatians 6:14 – “But God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.”)

In shadowed halls where empires rise and fall,
Where crowns of gold and thrones of pride enthrall,
I stand unbowed, my heart a barren field—
No harvest reaped from flesh’s fleeting yield.

The laurels wilt, the scepters turn to dust,
Ambition’s fire consumes in hollow lust;
Wealth whispers lies, and fame’s bright banner fades,
Leaving the soul in echoes of parades.

Yet one lone beam pierces the midnight veil,
A rugged cross where heaven’s mercies hail—
There, Love incarnate bled in crimson tide,
And bore my shame where justice crucified.

No boast in wisdom’s towers, sharp and high,
No glory in the strength that dares defy;
The world recedes, its chains fall shattered free,
For in that cross, my Savior died for me.

Oh, scandal of the ages, foolish sign!
The King of Glory on a tree divine—
Through splinters deep and thorns that crown His brow,
Redemption flows, and every knee must bow.

Let poets sing of stars and seas profound,
Let warriors claim the battle’s vict’ry sound;
I have no song but this eternal theme:
The cross alone, my hope, my light, my dream.

For by its power, the dead in sin arise,
The broken mended, blind receive their eyes;
In Christ alone, the veil is torn apart—
Nothing to glory in, but His wounded heart.

So let the ages roll, and tempests rage,
I’ll cling to Calvary through every stage;
Till faith gives way to sight in realms above,
And glory crowns the cross of boundless love.

From Dawn to Evermore: All Glory to Father, Savior, and Holy Spirit by Debbie Harris

15 Saturday Nov 2025

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

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The poem is a lyrical hymn of praise to the Holy Trinity—Father, Savior (Jesus), and Holy Spirit—celebrating their roles in creation, redemption, and sanctification.

  • Father: The architect of the cosmos, awakening the world with mountains, rivers, and leaves as living worship.
  • Savior: The merciful redeemer who heals wounds, transforms despair into joy, and turns death into life.
  • Holy Spirit: The dynamic presence igniting faith, comforting the broken, and turning human breath into sacred space.

It glorifies God for everyday miracles (birth, laughter, sparrows) and cosmic wonders (galaxies, the cross), uniting all gratitude in an eternal “all glory” that echoes from darkness to light, now and forever.

In the hush before dawn, when silence is a prayer,
Father, You breathe the world awake—
mountains rise like altars,
rivers carve psalms through stone,
every leaf a green tongue lifted in praise.

Savior, You walk the wounded roads we bleed upon,
hands scarred with mercy,
turning water to wine,
graves to gardens,
our ashes into alleluias.

Holy Spirit, wild dove,
You hover over chaos,
kindling tongues of fire in ordinary hearts,
whispering wind through the ribs of the broken,
making cathedrals of breath.

For the first cry of a child,
for the last sigh of the dying,
for the laugh that splits sorrow in two—
all glory.

For galaxies spun like silk from Your fingers,
for the sparrow that falls and is caught,
for the cross that shouldered our night—
all glory.

For every amen ever sighed in the dark,
for every hallelujah shouted in the light,
for the triune heartbeat beneath all things—
all glory,
forever and ever,
world without end.

The God Who Neither Tires Nor Falters: Song of the Everlasting One Whose Unsearchable Understanding Becomes the Inheritance of All Who Wait Upon Him by Debbie Harris

12 Wednesday Nov 2025

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Hast thou not known? Hast thou not heard,
The everlasting God, the Lord,
Creator of earth’s farthest ends,
Fainteth not, neither grows weary?
His understanding—no man can search.

He giveth power to the faint;
To them that have no might He increaseth strength.
Even youths shall faint and be weary,
Young men stumble, fall—
But they that wait upon the Lord
Shall renew their strength;
Mount up with wings as eagles,
Run and not be weary,
Walk and never faint.

O boundless God, I stand in awe—
Thy oceans of might overflow my soul!
My heart, a trembling leaf, is lifted high
On eagle-wings of grace Thou dost bestow.
I thank Thee, Lord, with every breath I draw;
Thy greatness crashes like a tidal wave,
And in its roar I lose myself,
Found only in Thy love that saves.

A Poetic Psalter Celebrating the Seven Days of Divine Artistry: From Uncreated Light To Holy Rest: A Septet Of Praise For The Days Of Genesis by Debbie Harris

11 Tuesday Nov 2025

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Awakening the Cosmos – A 7-Day Praise-Poem

  1. Uncreated Light – God speaks; raw light shatters darkness into molten dawn.
  2. Vault of Breath – Waters part, sky domes; sapphire firmament cradles unborn storms.
  3. Green Awakening – Seas recede, land rises; seeds burst into orchards of quiet fire.
  4. Lamps of Eternity – Sun, moon, stars hung as censer, coin, and nails in night’s scroll.
  5. Choir of the Deep – Oceans teem; leviathan and minnow sing in silver symphony.
  6. Image-Bearer – Dust breathes, man and woman walk as kings naming miracle and ache.
  7. Holy Pause – Creation halts in perfect hush; Sabbath dew crowns the finished world.

Day 1: The Uncreated Light
Before the ledger of time was inked,
You spoke, and darkness learned its name—
not absence, but a velvet womb
where silence pooled like liquid obsidian.
Then light—
not the sun’s borrowed coin,
but the raw mint of Your breath—
struck the void like flint on steel.
It scattered in shards of molten gold,
each photon a syllable of Your joy,
and the abyss, astonished,
blushed into morning.
Praise the Voice that split the night
and taught the dark to dream.

Day 2: The Vault of Breath
You lifted the waters like a curtain
and stretched a sky between—
a hammered sheet of sapphire,
thin as a lover’s sigh,
yet strong enough to hold
the thunder’s unborn roar.
Clouds drifted in like sheep
fresh-shorn of storm,
their underbellies bruised with rain.
The deep below kept its ancient counsel,
mirroring the heavens in a glass of salt.
Praise the Architect who set a dome
where breath could learn to fly.

Day 3: The Green Awakening
You gathered the seas in Your cupped hands,
and land rose—
not timid, but eager—
shoulders of granite, hips of loam,
a body ready to be clothed.
Seeds cracked open like secrets,
unfurled green tongues to taste the sun.
Orchards erupted in quiet fire,
petals the color of bruised dawn;
vines stitched the earth with emerald thread.
Every root a prayer,
every leaf a hallelujah.
Praise the Gardener whose whisper
turned dust to orchestra.

Day 4: The Lamps of Eternity
You hung the sun like a censer
swinging incense of molten noon;
the moon, a silver coin
pressed to the lip of night.
Stars—
not pinpricks, but nails
driven through the dark to hold it open—
spilled their ancient light
across the scroll of space.
Galaxies wheeled in slow sarabande,
comets trailed white fire like bridal veils.
Praise the Lamplighter who taught time
to keep its appointments.

Day 5: The Choir of the Deep
The seas convulsed with delight—
scales flashed like shattered mirrors,
wings of gulls stitched sky to wave.
Leviathan sang bass in the abyss,
while minnows piped descants
in silver filigree.
Eagles carved the wind with knives of bone,
their shadows racing over dunes.
Every creature a note
in the wild hymn of becoming.
Praise the Composer who tuned the waters
to a symphony of breath.

Day 6: The Image-Bearer
You stooped,
gathered dust as a sculptor gathers clay,
and breathed.
The clod flinched,
then stood—
adam, red as the earth he came from,
eyes wide with borrowed starlight.
Beside him, woman—
rib curved like a crescent moon,
laughter already blooming in her throat.
They walked among the beasts
as kings in a court of miracles,
naming lion, naming lamb,
naming the ache inside their chests.
Praise the Potter who signed His work
with a heartbeat.

Day 7: The Holy Pause
You ceased.
Not from weariness,
but from the perfection of enough.
The world spun on its axis
like a top You set in motion,
humming with finished grace.
You sat—
if sitting is what gods do—
and the silence was a sanctuary.
Sabbath settled like dew on cedar,
like mercy on the wounded world.
Praise the Rest-Giver
who taught creation
the art of being still
and knowing.

The Inestimable Treasure That Never Ends Is Jesus Christ, Our Savior, Lord, And King by Debbie Harris

10 Monday Nov 2025

Posted by in Bible Centered Poetry, Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Jesus Christ, King of Kings

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Summary of the Poem

The poem celebrates Jesus Christ as the ultimate, inexhaustible treasure—priceless, eternal, and infinitely renewing.

It portrays Him in three majestic roles:

  • Savior: who redeems us through His sacrifice on the cross,
  • Lord: who reigns with sovereign power yet tender care,
  • King: whose kingdom and glory have no end.

No matter how deeply we draw from His mercy, grace, wisdom, or love, the supply never diminishes—the more we take, the more He gives. The poem invites every weary soul to come empty-handed and be filled from this boundless, inestimable treasure: Jesus Christ, our Savior, Lord, and King.

In fields of grace, beneath the sky’s wide dome,
A treasure lies no map has ever shown—
Not gold that dims, nor gems that lose their fire,
But Christ Himself, the heart’s unspoken choir.

We dig with faith through layers of our days,
Past guilt’s dark soil and fear’s entangling maze;
Each spade of prayer strikes deeper than the last,
Unveiling light that centuries outcast.

The more we take—His mercy, truth, and peace—
The more He gives; the store will never cease.
A single glance reveals a thousand more,
Each facet new, each promise to explore.

Exhaust the stars? Then count the grains of sand.
Exhaust the sea? Then hold it in your hand.
But Jesus? No. His depths defy the sum;
Eternity itself cannot be done.

So come, weary seeker, bring your empty cup—
He fills, refills, and lifts your spirit up.
The treasure waits, unspent, unbound, untrod:
Forever found, forever ours—our God.

The Hope Of The Rapture by Debbie Harris

09 Sunday Nov 2025

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The hope of the Rapture gives

us a ceaseless victorious hope!

Until He comes rejoice in our

blessed Savior’s many benefits

Gifts of Grace and MercyA litany in small measures by Debbie Harris

09 Sunday Nov 2025

Posted by in Bible Centered Poetry, Christ Centered Devotionals, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Jesus Christ, King of Kings

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I.
A stranger’s umbrella, tilted just enough
to shield your shoulder from the sudden rain.

II.
The barista who redraws your name
when the cup comes back misspelled.

III.
A child’s sticky hand slipping a dandelion
through your fingers—yellow flag of truce.

IV.
“I’m proud of you”
slipped under the door like breakfast.

V.
The driver who waits, hazards blinking,
while you fumble the parallel park.

VI.
“You don’t have to explain.”

VII.
A text at 2:14 a.m.: saw the moon, thought of you.

VIII.
“Take the rest of the day—
I’ve got the shift.”

IX.
The librarian sliding the overdue fine
into the return slot, unseen.

X.
“I saved you the corner piece.”

XI.
Your neighbor’s porch light left on
long after their own bedtime.

XII.
“Your laugh still sounds like home.”

XIII.
A cat’s soft purr pressed against your ribs—
small engine of love that never asks why.

XIV.
“Call anytime, even if it’s 3 a.m. nonsense.”

XV.
The cashier who bags the heavy first,
handles the bread like it’s made of glass.

XVI.
“I believe the version of the story
you’re brave enough to tell.”

XVII.
In the waiting room, a stranger meets your eyes—
offers a small nod, I’m here too.

XVIII.
“You’re allowed to be a mess today.”

XIX.
A thank-you note folded small in your mailbox—
Your help meant the world.

XX.
“I kept the light on.”

XXI.
The last seat on the bus yielded
without ceremony, as if it were always yours.

XXII.
“This made me think of you—
no reason needed.”

XXIII.
“I see how hard you’re trying.”

XXIV.
“Go slow. The world won’t run out of you.”

XXV.
At the gathering, someone says, “Tell us again
how you learned every constellation’s name”—
they pull up a chair, ready to listen.

XXVI.
A friend scrawls on a napkin beside your cake:
“Happy birthday—another trip around the sun,
and you’re still shining.”

XXVII.
The friend who always adds your name
to the circle, the plan, the inside joke.

XXVIII.
“You’ve got this—
I’ve seen you climb harder walls.”

XXIX.
“Bravo—you nailed it.”
Clapped across the table like confetti.

XXX.
Someone, somewhere, is praying for you—
quiet syllables rising like incense.

XXXI.
“Well done, good and faithful.”
Echoed in a hallway no one else hears.

XXXII.
A stranger on the sidewalk—
“Your smile just made my morning.”

XXXIII.
Another, passing by:
“That color looks like it was invented for you.”

XXXIV.
Friend’s spare key on the hook:
“Crash here anytime—bed’s already made.”

XXXV.
The friend who steps in when voices rise—
“She’s with me,” spoken like armor.

XXXVI.
A server sliding the check away:
“Dinner’s on the house tonight.”

XXXVII.
Holiday card in the mail:
“Come hungry, bring nothing but you.”

XXXVIII.
A friend who hands you their spare key—
“Keep it. You’re family now.”

XXXIX.
A text that lands at the exact cracked-open moment:
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted…”
—Psalm 34:18, no sermon, just the verse.

XL.
The quiet one who watches, then says:
“You turn chaos into color—
I’ve never seen anyone sketch hope like you do.”

These are the quiet coins mercy slips
into the pocket of the day—
warm weight, soft clink,
never counted, always enough.