Brought Near By The Precious Blood Of Jesus Christ by Debbie Harris


Once lost, we wandered far from heaven’s light,
No part in Israel’s hope, no promise near,
Estranged from God, engulfed by endless night,
Our souls adrift, consumed by doubt and fear.
The covenants of grace we could not share,
Exiled from mercy, aliens to peace,
With hollow hearts, we languished in despair,
Our chains of sin denied us sweet release.
Yet Christ, with love divine, our fate reversed,
His blood outpoured, a ransom pure and free,
The far-off soul in Him is now immersed,
A bridge to God through crimson victory.
By sacrifice, the distant find their place,
In Him, we’re near, redeemed by boundless grace.

A Sonnet on Modern Christians as Tableaux Vivants, Living Masterpieces for the Glory and Honor of the Divine Preeminent Artist, Jesus Christ by Debbie Harris

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The sonnet, titled A Sonnet on Modern Christians as Tableaux Vivants Crafting Living Masterpieces for the Glory and Honor of the Divine Artist, portrays modern Christians as living artworks akin to “tableaux vivants”—a term meaning “living pictures,” where performers pose to recreate scenes. Here, it’s a metaphor: their lives are dynamic canvases, not static poses, painted with faith through every breath. They bloom through trials like roses, embedding God’s grace in their hearts. Their days form a gallery of vibrant devotion, each action a hymn to eternity. With humility, they offer joys and sorrows, their worship unbound, testifying to God’s glory. Ultimately, they proclaim the Divine Artist’s honor, their every moment a masterpiece reflecting His glory!

In every breath, a canvas they compose,
These saints of now, with lives as vivid art,
Through trials bloom like petals of the rose,
To paint God’s grace within each beating heart.
Their days, a gallery of faith unfurled,
No static pose, but motion bold and free,
A masterpiece to shine upon the world,
Each stroke a hymn to His eternity.
With humble hands, they lift their joys on high,
And sorrows too, as offerings sincere,
No frame confines their worship’s boundless cry,
Their lives, a testament to glory’s claim.
So modern souls, in living scenes, proclaim,
The Artist’s honor through their every frame.

Sonnet: Denying Self, Christ Exalted by Debbie Harris

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Based on 2 Timothy 3:5 (KJV)


We toil with hands of clay to mend the earth,
Yet some wear godliness as hollow guise,
Their form denies the power of true worth—
From such, we turn to seek the Savior’s eyes.

Through us, as royal heirs, His will is wrought,
Our feet may tread where mercy’s call is heard,
But pride we shun, for strength is humbly sought,
His love, the word that echoes undeterred.

The good we do, a mirror of His light,
Reflects not ours, but Heaven’s boundless flame,
For in denying self, we see aright—
The Savior’s grace deserves the endless claim.

So let us labor, bold yet meekly still,
And serve as hands through which His grace may spill.

All Have Sinned, But Only the Repentant Find Redemption at Christ’s Cross by Debbie Harris

The sonnet begins by affirming that all people—kings, beggars, and regular folk—have sinned and fallen short of God’s glory, united in their imperfection regardless of status. It then shifts to the cross, where Christ’s mercy reigns, offering salvation to all who stand equal before it. Redemption, however, comes only to those who repent and believe, their sins broken by Christ’s power, granting them new life through grace.

Beneath the heavens’ vast and boundless gaze,
All souls have strayed from glory’s perfect light,
Each heart, though bold, in sin’s dark tangle sways,
And none can claim a pure and spotless right.
The king, the beggar, regular folk, all fall,
No crown nor want nor common trade can save,
For guilt unites them under mercy’s call,
Where shadows cloak the path from womb to grave.
Yet at the cross, where Christ in mercy reigns,
All stand as one, salvation’s arms embrace,
Repentance flows, belief in Him sustains,
A flood of grace redeems through boundless faith.
There sin’s grim hold by Christ’s own hand is torn,
And souls are saved where boundless life is born.

A Sonnet of Lamentation and Yearning For The Return To Jesus Christ, His Holy Word, And His Most Sacred Ways Amidst A Modern Sodom and Gomorrah by Debbie Harris

The world, a mirror cracked by prideful hands,
Reflects a shadowed Sodom’s brazen glow,
Where virtue bends to vice in shifting sands,
And hearts forget the streams from which they flow.
Once walked a Man with words of piercing light,
His voice a balm, His steps a holy guide,
He called the lost from darkness into sight,
And bore the cross where sin and mercy vied.

Yet now we dance to tunes of hollow cheer,
Our altars cold, our lamps but faintly burn,
A Gomorrah blooms where grace once drew near,
And still His whisper bids us to return.
Oh, Christ, restore what folly has undone,
Thy Word, our dawn, Thy ways, our endless sun.

Heaven’s Canvas Created By Christ Our Creator by Debbie Harris

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Light blue clouds with gold so grand,
Painted by Christ’s holy hand,
His created beauty, pure and true,
Stirs the soul with wonder anew.

Sonnet for Dolci’s Virgin and Child, Circa 1640s, Bob Jones University Museum & Gallery by Debbie Harris

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This 14-line sonnet, in iambic pentameter with an ABAB rhyme, celebrates Carlo Dolci’s Virgin and Child (circa 1646–1649) at Bob Jones University Museum & Gallery. The first quatrain paints the Virgin in an orange robe like glowing embers, her coral cheeks and golden halo radiating warmth and reverence. The second quatrain presents the Child, human flesh yet divine King, with amber curls, lifted high by her on an olive green pillow—verdant and throne-like. The third quatrain zooms in on that pillow, deep with garden echoes, fringed with golden tassels, cradling Him as a subtle prophecy of the cross. The final couplet ties it to Dolci’s 1640s artistry, where her love enshrines the Child as God’s chosen Son, blending peace and redemption.


Her robe, an orange flame, like embers gleams,
A silken glow that wraps the Virgin’s form,
Her coral cheeks alight with tender dreams,
A golden halo crowns her spirit warm.
The Child, in flesh yet born to reign as King,
His amber curls cascade in soft delight,
She lifts Him high where Heaven’s praises sing,
On olive green, a throne of verdant might.

Gold tassels gleam, a dance of royal grace,
The pillow deep with garden’s whispered lore,
Holds up His frame, a hint of future’s trace,
A cross to come, His love forevermore.
In sixteen-forties’ stroke, this piece was spun,

Sonnet: “For This Corruptible Must Put On Incorruption, And This Mortal Must Put On Immortality” by Debbie Harris

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Based on I Corinthians 15:53 (KJV)

When mortal flesh ascends to glorious might,
Beneath a vault where stars in splendor blaze,
The eyes, reborn, drink deep of boundless sights,
A realm unveiled to everlasting gaze.

The mountains bow, their peaks in golden flame,
Oceans unfurl, their depths a jeweled expanse,
Each hue ignites, too vast for words to name,
A world remade in beauty’s fierce advance.

The winds bear songs no living ear could claim,
Through endless skies, the hosts of light parade,
Time’s curtain parts, all history aflame,
A radiant host in endless ranks arrayed.

And there we stand, with vision crowned anew,
To see the boundless sights immortality reveals.

A Royal Garment of Sonnet’s Lines Sewn With the Holy Spirit’s Thread and Free Verse’s Living Waters Drawn From His Well to Honor Christ Our Head by Debbie Harris

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The sonnet, “A Royal Garment of Sonnet’s Lines Sewn With the Holy Spirit’s Thread and Free Verse’s Living Waters Drawn From His Well to Honor Christ Our Head”, explores the dance between sonnet and free verse, both glorifying Christ. The first eight lines paint the sonnet as a “crown of measured rhyme”—a structured, kingly form where discipline crafts a “court of sound,” yet bends with freedom, like a throne for Jesus with His thorns, each rhyme a prayer. The last six shift to free verse, a “stream in quiet peace”—unbound, flowing with the Spirit’s gentle call, lifting to Christ without rigid walls. It ends tying both together: sonnets reign with royal art, free verse breathes grace—two paths, one heart, all for God’s glory.


The sonnet weaves a crown of measured rhyme,
Each line a jewel, cut to fit its frame,
A dance of feet in lockstep with old time,
Where discipline and grace exalt a name.
Its walls hold tight, a kingly court of sound,
Yet freedom hides in how the heart can bend,
A throne where Christ might sit, with thorns around,
And every turn a prayer that seeks no end.

But free verse flows like streams in quiet peace,
No rigid form to bind its gentle call,
A voice set loose, where Spirit finds release,
It lifts to Christ, unboxed, yet standing tall.
So sonnets reign with order’s royal art,
Free verse lends voice to crown the Lord’s heart.

Where Once Was Only Sin, His Mercy Reigns Supreme Like a Radiant Crown by Debbie Harris

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Within our souls, a war of shadows reigns,
The sin and self, a stain we cannot flee,
Yet righteousness, a gift through sacred veins,
Bestows a dawn where once was misery.
Repentance turns the heart from darkened mire,
His strength sustains, a power bold and true,
Though flesh still claws with unrelenting fire,
The spirit lifts with grace that carries through.
His path we tread, imperfect till the skies,
He calls us His, though dust we yet remain,
Where once was sin, His mercy crowns us free,
A song of grace redeems our every strain.
O Christ, the Word who authors all our days,
Thy love redeems our steps with endless praise.