“I Will Remember Their Sin No More”A Hymn on the Triumph of Divine Love over Divine Omniscience by Debbie Harris

06 Saturday Dec 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Inspirational, Royally Redeemed, Thanksgiving

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bible, Biblical Truth, Christian Poetry, christianity, faith, Inpirational, Inspirational, Royally Redeemed, theology

When God beholds the sinner’s scroll,
He finds no stain remains;
The debt is paid, the breach made whole,
Forgiven are his chains.

Though every fault lies bare to sight
Beneath th’ all-seeing eye,
Yet love, more strong than boundless light,
Refuses memory’s cry.

Omniscience could rehearse the fall,
Recount each wandering trace;
But mercy overrules it all
And grants a spotless place.

The Judge who knows all things aright
Declares the record clean;
For Christ has borne the darkened night
And washed away the sin.

No charge shall rise on judgment day,
No guilt shall e’er return;
The Lord who blotted sins away
Hath sworn He will not turn.

O depth of covenant grace divine,
That love should silence lore!
The past is lost in love’s design—
God remembers sin no more.

Blessed Be the Lord Who Daily Loadeth Us with Benefits A Classical Ode to God’s Royal Heirs by Debbie Harris

27 Thursday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Inspirational, Thanksgiving

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Blessed be the Lord who daily loadeth us with grace,
His benefits like rivers from His throne forever flow;
A store of endless mercy shines upon our pilgrim race,
And crowns each dawn with favor that His children all may know.

Majestic hope arises with the morning’s golden ray,
Its radiant beams of glory chase all shadows far away;
The promise of His victory fills our hearts with joyful play,
For joint heirs of His kingdom shall with Christ forever stay.

Victorious royal forces, clad in garments pure and bright,
March forth with banners waving ‘neath the King’s unyielding hand;
The hosts of hell shall tremble at the splendor of His might,
For sons and daughters crowned with life in triumph firmly stand.

O King of Kings and Lord of Lords, enthroned in regal state,
Thy scepter rules creation with a power none can stay;
We joint heirs of Thy promise find our everlasting fate,
To reign with Thee in glory where no darkness mars the day.

From everlasting ages, Thy benevolence hath poured,
Unfailing streams of goodness on the objects of Thy love;
Each blessing multiplies to magnify our living Lord,
Who lifts us to His bosom in His paradise above.

Thanksgiving’s Radiant Crown by Debbie Harris

27 Thursday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Thanksgiving

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Harvest sunblaze crowns the golden fields,
Abundant life in every heart yields.
Bread and laughter lift our endless song—
Thanksgiving’s victory forever strong!

Thanksgiving by Debbie Harris

27 Thursday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christian Poetry, Thanksgiving

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Christian Poetry, Thanksgiving

Beneath the amber of November’s dome,
The table groans with harvest’s quiet grace,
Each gathered face a hearth, each shared word home,
God’s plenty shines through every lifted face.

O Ancient of Eternal Days: A Sevenfold Hymn of Thanksgiving Unto Ages of Ages by Debbie Harris

25 Tuesday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Inspirational, Thanksgiving

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Christian Poetry, Inspirational, Praise, Thanksgiving

O Ancient of Eternal Days: A Sevenfold Hymn of Thanksgiving Unto Ages of Ages
A concise summary in seven breaths (one for each perfect stanza):

Before all time, the eternal God spoke light, seas, and harvest into being; every grain and every season has ever been His gift.
In the bleak beginnings of nations (pilgrims on barren shores, exiles in winter), God spread tables in the wilderness and taught His people the first songs of thanks.
Through every famine, war, and darkness since, His hidden manna and watchful love have never failed a single sparrow or child of the covenant.
Tonight, under this harvest moon, fields overflow and ten thousand tables shine; the earth itself laughs in color because all belongs to Him.
Yet the deepest thanksgiving is not for bread and wine, but for wounded hearts made whole, for sinners called beloved, for redemption that turns every sorrow into song.
Empires fall, thrones crumble, but the feast lengthens eastward and westward until the last stranger and the last unborn child find their place at the everlasting table.
Finally, all praise ascends to Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—one God in boundless might—while earth and heaven join in one unending Amen, and thanksgiving itself becomes eternity’s native tongue.

Refrain after every stanza:
“Praise, praise the Giver of all good… All peoples, lift undying praise!”

A hymn that begins before creation and never ends, carrying every generation’s gratitude forward on the same unbroken melody, world without end.

1
O Ancient of Eternal Days,
Before the worlds were framed,
Thy voice called forth the light and seas
And every creature named.
Thy open hand, through endless years,
Hath strewn the heavens with grain;
The seasons turn, the harvest nears—
Thy mercy falls like rain.

Praise, praise the Giver of all good,
Whose love shall never cease;
From age to age Thy mercies flood
The borders of our peace.
Forever, through the length of days,
Let grateful anthems rise—
All peoples, lift undying praise
To God who feeds and supplies!

2
On barren shores our fathers knelt
When winter gripped the land;
Yet Thou preparedst unseen bread
By Thine almighty hand.
A table rose amid the wild,
The cup of mercy ran;
And songs of thanks, by exiles styled,
First sounded among men.

3
When enemies who lie and kill
And come to steal, destroy,
Rose like the darkness, fierce and shrill,
To rob Thy people’s joy—
Thy hidden manna fed us still,
Thy wings o’ershadowed nigh;
Through every threat of death and ill
Thy covenant kept us by.

4
The golden sheaves now bend and break,
The vintage overflows;
Earth laughs in color for Thy sake
And every field o’erflows.
Ten thousand tables gleam tonight
Beneath the harvest moon—
All gifts are Thine, all hearts unite
To sing one thankful tune.

5
Yet not for bread and cup alone
Our trembling praises ring;
For wounded hearts made wholly known,
For every hidden thing
Turned glory by redeeming grace,
For sinners called Thy own—
We bless the love upon Thy face
That claimed us for Thy throne.

6
Let empires crumble into dust,
Let thrones in silence fall;
Thy kingdom comes, forever just,
And shall outlast them all.
The child unborn shall taste this feast,
The stranger find his place;
Thy table lengthens, east to west,
Till time gives way to grace.

7
To Father, Son, and Spirit blest,
One God in boundless might,
Be glory while the worlds shall rest
And through eternal light.
Amen, amen, let earth reply,
And heaven the song prolong—
Thanksgiving nevermore shall die
But rise, world without end, as song.

A Song of the Redeemed: Everlasting Gratitude to Jesus Christ for the Finished, Unending Gift of Salvation by Debbie Harris

25 Tuesday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Inspirational, Thanksgiving

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Christian Poetry, Poetry, Praise, Thanksgiving

A Song of the Redeemed: Everlasting Gratitude to Jesus Christ for the Finished, Unending Gift of Salvation

This poem is a sustained, joyful portrait of the redeemed in the third person, celebrating the ceaseless, irreversible gift of salvation purchased once-for-all by Jesus Christ.

From the first breath of morning to the last sigh of night, the blood-bought host lives in astonished thankfulness. Every ordinary moment (waking, walking, laughing, eating, sleeping) is saturated with the finished work of Calvary: the curse lifted, death defeated, wrath exhausted, sin forgiven. Nature itself testifies—the sparrow, wheat, rain, and sky all echo the victory of the Second Adam and the broken Bread.

The redeemed laugh like soldiers who heard their Captain shout “It is finished!”, feast like guests whose infinite debt is stamped “Tetelestai—Paid in full” by the Lamb’s own blood, and rest like heirs who can never be disowned. Children run, old men leap, widows sing—every demographic of the saved pulses with resurrection life because Jesus Christ lives, reigns, and keeps giving the gift that never diminishes and can never be revoked.

The poem closes with an eternal refrain: the morning stars and the ransomed host together sing one undying note of gratitude to the risen Lord Jesus—Thank You without end—for the finished, unending salvation that flows ceaselessly from His throne.

They wake before the dawn has traced its gold,
the blood-bought host, and breathe the air made sweet
by Jesus Christ who loved and gave Himself.
Their houses—once cold tombs where death held sway—
now stand with every window flung to light
that streams unearned from Calvary’s finished work.

They walk the streets their feet once dragged in chains;
each step now falls on ground the Savior cursed no more.
The sparrow sings because the Second Adam lives,
the wheat bows low because the Bread was broken first,
the rain descends because the clouds of wrath
were emptied on the Lamb who bore their sin.

See how they laugh—no guarded, timid sound,
but loud and free, like soldiers who have heard
their Captain cry, “It is finished!” from the tree.
They greet with wonder those whom Jesus sought
and bought with blood, comparing scars that match
the prints still open in His hands and side.

At table they need no one bid them thank;
the bread itself proclaims the broken Body,
the cup still glows with blood that speaks a better word.
They eat, and every bite is sealed “Forgiven,”
they drink, and every swallow sings “Alive,”
because their Jesus Christ is risen, reigning, giving.

The children race, the old men leap for joy
as calves released when winter’s chains are shattered;
the widows lift the songs they thought forever lost
because the Bridegroom lives who dried their tears.
Above them bends a sky no longer brass
but poured-out mercy from the wounds of Christ.

All day they praise—no anxious, dutiful strain
for fear the gift might slip from trembling hands—
but steady, astonished, like a host set free
who saw the ledger soaked in royal blood
and read beneath their infinite debt
one crimson word: “Tetelestai—Paid in full.”

When night returns they do not bolt the doors
against tomorrow’s possible reversal.
They sleep as heirs the Son has made His own,
as kings already crowned by Jesus’ victory,
as loved ones held in love that cannot end,
and every heartbeat is a quiet amen
to ceaseless salvation flowing from the throne.

And somewhere deep, the morning stars still sing
the song they learned the day the Lamb prevailed:
the ransomed answer, breath by breath, forever—
“Thank You, Lord Jesus. Thank You without end.”

A Sonnet of Gratitude for the Glorious Victory of Salvation Won for the Redeemed by Debbie Harris

25 Tuesday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Bible Centered Poetry, Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Thanksgiving

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Christian Poetry, Inspirational, Thanksgiving

Summary of the Sonnet
“A Sonnet of Gratitude for the Glorious Victory of Salvation Won for the Redeemed”

This sonnet joyfully celebrates the redeemed believers’ profound thankfulness for the gift of salvation. It portrays them as those who were once enslaved to sin and death but have been gloriously transformed by Christ’s decisive victory. Through His death and resurrection, the curse is shattered, the enemy is defeated, the grave is robbed of its power, and former captives are raised to life, crowned with light, and clothed in righteousness. Every breath of the redeemed now becomes a song of triumph, and their hearts are thrones for the risen Lamb. The poem closes with a resounding call for heaven and earth to echo endless praise, declaring that the saved are not merely rescued—they are forever conquering kings and priests in Christ. The entire sonnet pulses with gratitude for a salvation that is complete, irreversible, and overwhelmingly victorious.

Shall the redeemed compare their souls to spring
That bursts with life beneath the Victor’s sun?
Once slaves to sin, now children of the King,
They stand in robes of triumph He has won.

The curse is crushed; the grave has lost its sting,
The foe lies broken, silenced evermore;
Death heard the shout of resurrection ring
And yielded up its captives to the Door.

See how they rise, once dead, now crowned with light,
Arrayed in glory purchased by His blood;
Their every breath a hymn of boundless might,
Their hearts a throne where reigns the Lamb of God.

Let heaven and earth with endless anthems ring:
Forever saved, forever conquering!

May Our Lives Be a Song of Praise and Thanksgiving to Thee, O Lord of Majestic, Hope-Filled Victory by Debbie Harris

24 Monday Nov 2025

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

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Christian Poetry, Inspirational, Praise, Prayer, worship

The poem is a single, sustained prayer that our entire lives might become a living act of worship: rising like sweet incense (Psalm 141:2) to the majestic God who has triumphed over sin, sorrow, and death through the cross and resurrection of Jesus.

It celebrates the transformative power of the gospel:

Darkness is outrun by mercy.
Brokenness and scars are turned into songs of glory.
Ordinary days, tears, work, and weakness are all redeemed and filled with resurrection light.
Every moment (from Monday labor to the return of spring) pulses with hallelujah because the war is already won.

The poem offers back to God the small, honest gifts of real human lives (the worker’s hands, the child’s trust, the widow’s mite, the prodigal’s return) and asks that He receive them as fragrant worship. It ends with a triumphant amen: because we serve the Slain and Risen Lamb, even our little lives are swept up into one endless, hope-filled song of praise and thanksgiving.

In short:
Because of who Christ is and what He has done, every breath we take can be worship, every day can be victory, and every heart can keep singing forever.

May our lives rise like incense, sweet and slow,
a steady hymn through night’s unyielding deep,
each breath a note, each heartbeat set aglow
by mercy that outruns the dark and keeps
its promise in the breaking of the bread,
its victory in the place where sorrow bled.

Oh Lord, majestic, clothed in living light,
Thy name a banner over every fear;
the grave is hollow now, the stone is bright
with morning no shadow can draw near.
We carry resurrection in our veins,
and every scar sings glory through its pains.

Let laughter spill like wine at harvest feast,
let weeping turn to dancing in Thy sight;
our fragile days, once borrowed from the beast
of death, now blaze with heaven’s borrowed might.
Because of who we serve—the Slain, the Risen—
our little lives become a wide horizon.

So take these trembling offerings, small and true:
the work-worn hand, the child’s unbroken trust,
the widow’s mite, the prodigal’s “I’m through
with running”—all laid bare before the Just
and Gentle One who calls the broken blest
and sets a table in the wilderness.

May every ordinary moment ring
with hallelujahs only grace can start;
may Monday’s labor and December’s spring
both thrum beneath Thy mercy like a heart
that knows its ransom paid, its war already won—
and sings, forever sings, because of Thee, the Son.

Amen. And amen again.
Our lives: one endless song of praise and thanksgiving.

A Sonnet on Ephesians 5:20 by Debbie Harris

24 Monday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Inspirational, Praise, Royally Redeemed, Thanksgiving

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The sonnet is a poetic meditation on Ephesians 5:20’s command to “give thanks always for all things.”

It urges the reader to offer gratitude not only in moments of joy, plenty, and health, but especially in hardship, pain, hunger, sorrow, and suffering. The poem reframes difficulties as disguised mercies: wounds that sing, crosses that become crowns, scars that shine like jewels, and bruises that lead to healing joy.

In every circumstance (sunlit or stormy), the speaker calls us to lift continual thanks to God the Father through Jesus Christ, insisting that this habit of thankful praise, even in the darkest times, is what ultimately strengthens weak and weary hearts.

Give thanks, O heart, in every breath you draw,
Not only when the sun gilds morning skies,
But when the midnight rain and tempests roar,
And sorrow’s iron enters through your eyes.
Give thanks when bread is plentiful and sweet,
Yet more when hunger gnaws the hollow night;
Give thanks in health that dances down the street,
And deeper still when pain restrains your flight.
For every wound, a hidden mercy sings;
Each cross a covert crown, each scar a gem.
The Father’s hand that bruises also brings
The oil of joy from Gilead’s stem.
So, in the name of Jesus, lift your song—
Give thanks always, for this makes weak hearts strong.

(Ephesians 5:20: “Giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”)

A Thanksgiving Hymn to Christ the King by Debbie Harris

24 Monday Nov 2025

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

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Christian Poetry, Inspirational, Praise, Thanksgiving, worship

Summary of “A Thanksgiving Hymn to Christ the King”

The poem is a single, sustained act of worship that moves from earthly Thanksgiving beauty to the eternal throne of Jesus Christ.

It begins with the familiar golden splendor of an American Thanksgiving (amber fields, scarlet maples, pumpkin, cider, laughter, and a laden table), yet swiftly lifts every detail into praise of Christ the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, the true source of all bounty.

Remembering how Jesus once multiplied loaves on Galilee’s shore, the poem thanks Him not only for food and harvest, but far more for His broken body and shed blood that multiply grace and forgive sins.

Earthly candles and hearthfires fade before the fiercer, saving light of the cross. All temporary joys (turkey, pies, breath itself) are offered back to the Lamb who was slain, that He might transform them into eternal crowns.

The poem closes with a vision that stretches beyond every future Thanksgiving on earth: one day the final harvest will gleam, time will end, and the redeemed will lay endless hallelujahs at the feet of Jesus Christ, the King supreme.

In short, it is a joyous, majestic declaration that every Thanksgiving feast is but a foretaste of the everlasting banquet, and every “thank you” on earth is rehearsal for the unending worship in heaven.

On this golden Thanksgiving day,
when amber light spills over fields laid bare,
we lift our eyes beyond the harvest’s fair array
to Him who crowns the year with mercy rare.

Jesus, Thou King of Kings, bright Morning Star,
whose scepter rules the storm and calms the sea,
before Thy throne we cast our crowns afar,
for every grain and grape are gifts from Thee.

The scarlet maple, burning in its praise,
the pumpkin’s quiet gold, the cider’s steam,
the laughter rising through the autumn haze—
all echo back the glory of Thy name.

Thou who once broke the bread on Galilee’s shore,
and fed the thousands with a child’s small store,
still multiplies our meager thanks once more
till hearts, like loaves, are broken and restored.

We thank Thee for the table richly spread,
for hands that planted, hands that reaped and baked;
yet more, O Lord of Lords, for wounds that bled,
for love that died and rose, and sins erased.

The pilgrim’s candle flickers in the night,
the hearthfire leaps to greet the wandering guest;
but brighter burns Thy cross’s saving light—
in that fierce flame we find our deepest rest.

So take our trembling praise, our feeble song,
our turkey carved, our pies, our fleeting breath;
receive it all, Thou Lamb who bore our wrong,
and weave it into crowns beyond our death.

Forever, Jesus Christ, the King supreme,
we laud Thy name through every coming year;
till earth’s last harvest yields its final gleam
and crown Thy throne with endless hallelujahs clear.

Amen.