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Passionately Pursuing Christ

~ Christ Centered Poetry by Debbie Harris

Passionately Pursuing Christ

Category Archives: Triumphant

The Masterpiece of Beauty: How Christ, His Creation, and His Benefits Displace All Worldly Glory by Debbie Harris

13 Tuesday Oct 2026

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Praise, Royally Redeemed, salvation, Thanksgiving, Triumphant

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Biblical Truth, Christian Poetry, Inpirational, Inspirational, Royally Redeemed, theology

Dear Reader,I

If you have ever felt the world’s glitter grow thin, or sensed that some beauty greater than all its painted shows still waits to be known, then this sonnet is offered to you. It does not claim to exhaust the theme, only to point toward the One in whom beauty is not borrowed but original—the masterpiece Himself, whose radiance is traced in the works of His hands and in every benefit that flows from His grace.

May it serve, however faintly, to turn the eye from what fades to Him who does not fade, and to fill the heart, the soul, and the mind with that ceaseless beauty which alone can satisfy.

—The Poet

One who hath gazed upon the Christ, and known
The radiance that burns beyond all art,
Finds every lesser glory overthrown,
And turns from every counterfeit of heart.

The world may spread her glittering array—
Her fleeting honours, pleasures, painted shows—
Yet none of these can hold the soul that may
Behold the beauty whence all light doth flow.

What once seemed fair grows pale beneath His eye;
What once seemed sweet turns bitter to the taste.
Heart, soul, and mind receive the gift most high—
The ceaseless beauty that His hand hath graced.

Thus Christ, the masterpiece, in all we see—
In nature, benefits, and majesty.

**To God be the glory always and only.

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A Poem of Waking in the Holy City by Debbie Harris

13 Tuesday Oct 2026

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christian Poetry, Inspirational, Thanksgiving, Triumphant

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bible, Biblical Truth, Christian, Christian Poetry, christianity, faith, hope, Inpirational, Inspirational, jesus, jesus-christ, Poetry, Praise, salvation, theology, worship

A Note to the Reader

Dear Reader,

This is not a map of Heaven. Scripture has already given what we are allowed to know. I have only tried to wake inside those promises: a new body, a holy city, the ordered joy of angels, the faces of the redeemed, and Christ Himself, no longer believed at a distance but seen.

If the gold and the gates appear, they are not the treasure. They are the floor and the door. The treasure is the Lamb who died and lives again. The city needs no sun because He is its day. Faith ends not in imagination, but in sight.

I have written in the second person because the hope is not a spectacle for someone else. It is offered to the one who still walks the long night and keeps the Name. This poem is but a humble attempt to capture the exquisite beauty of Heaven! In reality, there will be no words. For the scripture tells us in 1 Corinthians 2:9 (KJV)

But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.

Read the poem slowly. Beauty is not the enemy of truth. A line may be lovely and still lead you to Jesus Christ, King of Kings and Lord of Lords! If the loveliness stops at itself, it has failed. If it makes Him nearer, it has done its work.

The work is His.

The rest is waiting.

—The Poet

1 Corinthians 15:51–53

Behold, I shew you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed,

In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed.

For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality.

Philippians 3:21

Who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious body, according to the working whereby he is able even to subdue all things unto himself.

Revelation 21:4

And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.

Revelation 21:21

And the twelve gates were twelve pearls; every several gate was of one pearl: and the street of the city was pure gold, as it were transparent glass.

Revelation 21:23

And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it: for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.

Revelation 22:1–2

And he shewed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb.

In the midst of the street of it, and on either side of the river, was there the tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit every month: and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.

Revelation 22:5

And there shall be no night there; and they need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord God giveth them light: and they shall reign for ever and ever.

1 Corinthians 13:12

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

2 Corinthians 5:7

(For we walk by faith, not by sight:)

1 John 3:2

Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is.

Revelation 22:4

And they shall see his face; and his name shall be in their foreheads.

John 20:27

Then saith he to Thomas, Reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands; and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side: and be not faithless, but believing.

Matthew 25:21

His lord said unto him, Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.

Hebrews 12:22–23

But ye are come unto mount Sion, and unto the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable company of angels,

To the general assembly and church of the firstborn, which are written in heaven, and to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect.

Revelation 5:11–12

And I beheld, and I heard the voice of many angels round about the throne and the beasts and the elders: and the number of them was ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands;

Saying with a loud voice, Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing.

Revelation 1:17–18

And when I saw him, I fell at his feet as dead. And he laid his right hand upon me, saying unto me, Fear not; I am the first and the last:

I am he that liveth, and was dead; and, behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen; and have the keys of hell and of death.

Revelation 22:13

I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end, the first and the last.

Revelation 21:6

And he said unto me, It is done. I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely.

Waking is not a startle here.

It is a slow unfurling, like a rose

that never knew a frost or fear,

the first true breath a body knows.

The lungs take light instead of air.

The heart keeps time with something vast.

No ache remains, no weight, no wear—

the old machine is overpassed.

The skin is new. It holds the day

the way still water holds the sky.

Each nerve is tuned to praise and play;

each cell remembers the design.

You stand. The standing is a song.

The floor is gold that does not glare

but drinks the brightness all along

and gives it back as living air.

A river moves with liquid glass.

Its banks are lined with trees that heal.

The leaves keep time as ages pass

and every wound they touch is sealed.

Then sound arrives—not crash, not cry,

but ordered glory, rank on rank:

the seraphim whose faces fly

with fire that never scorched or sank;

the cherubim with wheels of sight;

the thrones that hold the weight of peace;

dominions keeping day from night

so joy may never know decrease;

then virtues, powers, principalities,

archangels bright as lifted swords,

and angels countless as the seas

who speak in one accord of words.

They do not rush. They form a way.

A living aisle of wing and light.

A welcoming that does not sway

from order into mere delight.

One steps. His face is kind and keen.

He does not ask what you have done.

He only smiles, as if he’d seen

your name before the world begun.

Beyond him, faces you have loved

in stories older than your blood:

the shepherd-king whose harp once moved

the dark; the man who faced the flood;

the mother who kept every word

and pondered them against her heart;

the fisherman who saw the Lord

and left the nets to take his part.

They do not crowd. They simply are—

as real as bread, as clear as flame.

No statue’s calm, no distant star:

they know your name. They speak your name.

The city rises, gate by gate

of pearl that never learned to close.

No shadow leans. There is no late.

The light itself is what it knows.

And then the center—not a throne

of metal lifted over men,

but Jesus, known as He is known,

the Lamb who died and lives again.

You see Him. Seeing is the end

of faith that walked the long night through.

The glass is gone. The shadows bend.

The distant Hope is here and true.

The eyes that wept, the hands once torn,

the side the spear was made to find—

He wears them still, not as a scorn,

but as the mercy of His mind.

He looks at you as if the world

had waited only for this hour.

No thunder splits. No banner’s furled.

Just love that has no need of power.

He speaks, and every golden street

falls still, as if the city hears

the sentence it was built to meet,

the word that gathers all the years:

“Well done, thou good and faithful servant.”

The phrase is old. The meaning new.

It settles in the bones like current.

It makes the finished work come true.

You do not bow from terror’s claim.

You kneel because the joy is deep,

because the One who knows your name

has kept the promise He would keep.

And all the ranks of heaven wait

in that bright hush after the word,

as if the universe’s weight

were lightened by what you just heard.

Then music starts again—not loud,

but full, the way a river fills

the quiet places of a cloud

and turns the high, cold air to hills.

You rise. The new body knows how.

The gold is warm beneath your feet.

What once was faith is vision now.

The far-off Lord is near, complete.

The city keeps no sun for guide,

no moon to nurse a lesser flame.

The Lamb is day on every side.

The light is Jesus. So is the Name.

The saints are walking in that light.

The angels finish what they began.

The song is doctrine burning bright:

the Word made flesh, the Son of Man.

No sun is asked to start the day.

The Lamb is light. The song is won.

The First and Last is All in All.

The work forevermore is done.

**To God be the glory always and only.

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What God Hath Called Thee, When All the Earth Hath Spoken Otherwise by Debbie Harris

30 Wednesday Sep 2026

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

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

bible, Biblical Truth, Christian, Christian Poetry, christianity, faith, hope, Inpirational, Inspirational, jesus, jesus-christ, Poetry, Praise, Royally Redeemed, salvation, theology, worship

A Note to the Reader

Dear Reader,

We are living in sobering and sometimes cruel times. Words are cheap, and they are also sharp. Names are given lightly—some in jest, some in scorn, some in fear—and they can follow a soul farther than they should.

This poem was written for that weather.

It does not pretend the earth is kind, or that every tongue is just. It only dares to say that the last word is not the world’s. What God hath called His own still stands when lesser voices have spent themselves.

If you come here bruised by what has been said of you, read slowly. The names that matter were spoken before the morning stars, and they have not been withdrawn.

Go forth in joy; thy name is sure.

—The Poet

Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine.

—Isaiah 43:1

Who shall lay any thing to the charge of God’s elect? It is God that justifieth.

—Romans 8:33

Let earth still speak, if speak it will;

the Father’s naming holds thee still.

He calls thee Mine, as ones He keeps

when waters rise and darkness creeps.

He calls thee known, and precious too—

not spent like dust the wind blows through.

Beloved, held ere light was made,

ere morning stars in joy were laid.

Chosen in Christ, before the sun,

holy and blameless, not by run

of works, but by His own delight.

Accepted in the Beloved’s right.

A child of God, of Spirit born;

no foundling left, no name outworn.

Not slave, but child; with Christ made heir—

the Father’s portion thou shalt share.

Redeemed, not with corruptible gold,

but with the blood the prophets told.

Forgiven, far as east from west.

Made righteous, justified, and blessed.

A new creation—old things past;

the former life is overcast

and gone. A saint, because He called.

Sealed till the day the graves are walled

no more. A temple, living, His,

wherein the Spirit dwells and is.

His workmanship. A citizen

of heaven, not the dust of men.

Hid with Christ in God. His friend.

His sheep, whom none shall pluck or rend.

A royal priesthood. Salt and light.

A branch that liveth by His life.

More than a conqueror, through the love

that will not let thee go thereof.

So let the lesser tongues still say

what names they will, and pass away.

Go forth in joy; thy name is sure:

Beloved, chosen, Mine evermore.

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

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Biblical Truth, Christ Centered Devotionals, Christian Poetry, Inpirational, Inspirational, Royally Redeemed, theology

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.

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

26 Saturday Sep 2026

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

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bible, Biblical Truth, Christian Poetry, christianity, Inpirational, Inspirational, Praise, Royally Redeemed, salvation, theology, worship

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.

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

26 Saturday Sep 2026

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

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Biblical Truth, Biblically Sourced Art, Christ Centered Devotionals, christianity, faith, salvation

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.

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Alleluia by Debbie Harris

26 Saturday Sep 2026

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christian Poetry, Inspirational, Praise, salvation, Thanksgiving, Triumphant

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bible, Biblical Truth, Christian Poetry, christianity, faith, Inpirational, Inspirational, jesus, Poetry, theology

Dear reader,

I was just overwhelmed by the benefits God gives us.

Scripture says He has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing, and that our inheritance is kept in heaven, unfading and undefiled. The Gospel does not hand us a small comfort. It gives us forgiveness of sins, peace with God, adoption into His household, a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ, and a joy no one can take from us. We are children of the King of Kings. “The Lord is my portion,” the Scriptures say, and “we are His people, the sheep of His pasture.” Nothing—neither death nor life nor anything else in all creation—can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

That is why I wrote this. The treasure is Jesus. We are His, and He is ours. I could not keep the praise in.

Alleluia.

—The Poet

Ephesians 1:3

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath blessed us with all spiritual blessings in heavenly places in Christ.

1 Peter 1:3-4

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, which according to his abundant mercy hath begotten us again unto a lively hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for you.

Romans 5:1

Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.

John 16:22

And ye now therefore have sorrow: but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you.

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.

Revelation 19:16

And he hath on his vesture and on his thigh a name written, KING OF KINGS, AND LORD OF LORDS.

The glorious, beauty-filled, transformative Gospels

give us ceaseless joy—

triumph, beauty, love, forgiveness,

a Trinitarian community,

a victorious hope

that can never, no ever, be taken away.

Rest in our Savior’s excellent provision.

Rejoice, sons and daughters

of the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

We are His, and He is ours.

The treasure is Jesus Christ our Lord.

Rejoice and shout

Alleluia.

Alleluia.

Alleluia.

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

16 Wednesday Sep 2026

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

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Biblical Truth, Christian Poetry, Inpirational, Inspirational, Triumphant

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.

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Christ-Centered Beauty: How Holy Light Filled Home and University by Debbie Harris

15 Tuesday Sep 2026

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Love Of Family, Royally Redeemed, salvation, Thanksgiving, Triumphant

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bible, Biblical Truth, Christian, Christian Poetry, christianity, faith, hope, Inpirational, Inspirational, jesus, jesus-christ, Poetry, Praise, salvation, theology, worship

A Psalm of Thanksgiving for our home, our parents. our family and our campus home,Bob Jones University.

How Holy Light Filled Home and University

A Psalm of Thanksgiving

Her life and his were wrought of holy light,

Where Jesus stood as Beauty’s living flame;

No lesser glory held their souls in sight,

For He alone was source, and He the name.

Their parents’ hearts, the campus they held dear,

Were living temples where that Presence dwelt;

For Christ was preached with beauty far and near,

And walked beside us, known, and seen, and felt.

These twins grew up inside that same bright grace,

A household lit by more than common fire.

And all the faculty children, side by side,

Were brothers, sisters, in that wide embrace—

One family beneath the Crucified,

One childhood kept in one beloved place.

The brother shone with gifts of sacred place—

In song, in preaching, teaching, heaven’s choir.

His voice rose upward, incense on the air;

The Word he preached became a piercing flame;

The truths he taught made every subject fair,

And Christ Himself was glory in his name.

The campus of our youth, beloved and bright,

Rose like a psalm through chapel, arts, and speech;

Christ’s beauty lived upon those walks of light,

And every discipline that beauty reached.

There stood the Museum & Gallery, renowned,

A house of holy beauty, rich and deep;

On canvas, stone, and frame the gospel sounded,

And taught the heart a biblical watch to keep.

Through hallowed rooms whole generations passed

And learned to read all splendor by the Word;

The masters’ sacred scenes, in silence, cast

A Christ-centered vision none who looked forgot.

How could I not become His poet then—

Ringed round with language, color, thought, and mind,

And academics ordered toward Amen—

Till verse itself was by that Beauty signed?

How could we walk those paths and not be filled

With light no common sun was born to give?

The Word made flesh our every hour distilled;

In Christ we learned how holy hearts should live.

We love the Word; it is our joy and stay.

Lord Jesus dwells, a King, in heart and soul.

Our one desire, for each God sends our way,

Is making Jesus known—our highest goal.

So now we stand, and shall forever remain

Grateful for this rich heritage we bear—

For campus, home, and kindred hearts the same,

All crowned by Christ-centered beauty rare.

Christ’s beauty dwelt where chapel sermons raised

The heart to worship through these holy days.

We thank the Lord for gifts we cannot pay;

This golden, Christ-centered heritage we praise.

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You Are Held By Debbie Harris

22 Saturday Aug 2026

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

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bible, Biblical Truth, Christian, Christian Poetry, christianity, faith, hope, Inpirational, Inspirational, jesus, jesus-christ, Poetry, Praise, Royally Redeemed, theology, worship

You Are Held

(Free Verse & Rhymed)

Dear Reader,

These two poems — one free verse, one rhymed — were written from the same quiet place: a desire to point you to Jesus Himself.

Whether the lines breathe freely or move in gentle rhythm, they carry the same truth. May you find in them a soft place to rest in His finished work, a steady light from the One who walked the cross-road for you, and the deep assurance that you are held by Christ alone.

With care,

The Poet

Free Verse

Jesus loves you deeper

than the ocean’s unmeasured floor,

far beyond the trembling strength you clutch today

or the answers that still hide in fog.

His love does not wait for sunlit mornings

or hearts already whole and shining.

It finds you in the bruised twilight,

in the long ache of doubt,

in the weather that will not clear —

the same Jesus who stretched His arms wide on the cross

and still stretches them toward you now.

When sorrow settles like heavy rain on your shoulders,

when fear floods the low places of the heart,

when the map of your days dissolves into mist —

Christ is already there,

walking the road that has not yet appeared,

nothing about your night a surprise to the One

who carried every night to Calvary.

You were never meant to shoulder

the whole dark sky alone.

Bring the questions that burn,

the grief that sits like stones in your chest,

the disappointment that tastes of ash.

Come exactly as you are —

unwashed, unfinished, still breathing —

to the open wounds of Jesus.

His blood is enough. His scarred hands are enough.

He sees every hidden page of your story:

the tears that fell in rooms no one entered,

the quiet wars fought behind closed eyes,

the fragile courage it took

simply to rise and keep walking

when the path had grown over with thorns.

And He meets every page with the same mercy

that flowed from His side.

You are not forgotten in the wilderness.

Not invisible beneath the weight of stars.

Not too shattered, too tangled,

or too far for the reach of the risen Christ.

So hold on to Him.

Take the next small step

even when the whole road vanishes into shadow.

Let Jesus meet you in this exact breath

and remind you that His presence

has never once stepped away.

You may not know what dawn will bring,

but you can trust the One

who already stands in the morning light —

the same Jesus who left the tomb empty

so that your tomorrow could be filled with Him.

You are deeply loved by Christ.

You are seen by His eyes of compassion.

You are held by His nail-scarred hands.

Even now — especially now —

His grace is the quiet current carrying you,

His love the steady lamp at your feet,

leading you, one trembling step at a time,

straight into the heart of Jesus.

Rhymed

Jesus loves you deeper still

than oceans no line can measure,

beyond the strength you try to will

or answers lost in weather.

He finds you in the bruised half-light,

when fear and doubt draw near,

the Christ who hung on Calvary’s height

still draws you close and near.

You need not bear the storm alone,

the sky that presses low.

Come as you are — to Him alone —

His wounds already know.

He sees the tears that fell unseen

in rooms the world forgot,

the quiet wars, the in-between —

and meets them with His blood.

You are not lost among the thorns,

not broken past repair.

The risen Lord who wore the crown

still walks beside you there.

So take the next step, soft and true,

though morning hides from view.

His grace, His cross, His love hold you —

and Jesus holds you too.

**To God be the glory always and only!

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