Tag Archives: Christian Poetry

The Great Inversion of Thrones: Servants upon Horses and Princes Walking as Servants upon the Earth by Debbie Harris

19 Tuesday May 2026

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

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Dear Precious Reader,

Since childhood, this single verse from Ecclesiastes has held me captive. Its stark simplicity conceals a profound and unsettling truth about life under the sun. In the poem that follows, the Preacher beholds a world inverted: servants riding high upon horses in unearned pomp and pride, while princes—those born to rule—are reduced to walking as servants upon the dust. Through vivid, almost tactile images of jingling bridles, gleaming stirrups, and feet treading the trodden earth, the verses lament this chaotic reversal of rightful order. Fortune’s cruel wheel spins without mercy, exalting the unworthy and casting down the deserving.Yet the poem does more than observe the madness. It echoes Solomon’s great refrain of vanity—the fleeting, insubstantial nature of all earthly rank and power. Today’s rider may be tomorrow’s footman, and the footman, king—for a fleeting season. No platform, title, throne, or follower count is fixed under the sun.This meditation therefore offers both honest lament and living hope. Do not cling too tightly to position, honor, or worldly dignity. Look instead to the Lord Jesus Christ—the true Servant-King. He who had all riches and glory stooped lowest of all: He rode into Jerusalem not on a warhorse but on a borrowed donkey, washed His disciples’ feet, and wore a crown of thorns. The ultimate inversion happened at the cross, where the Righteous One was treated as the lowest servant so that we, once lowly, might be lifted up and seated with Him in heavenly places.In Christ alone we find true and lasting nobility—not in the saddle of success or the dust of humiliation, but in union with the One whose kingdom cannot be shaken. Every earthly order will one day bow before Him. Until that day, walk in wisdom and humility, fixing your eyes on Jesus, “who for the joy set before Him endured the cross,” knowing that in Him your status is secure forever.

Ecclesiastes 10:7 (KJV)
I have seen servants upon horses, and princes walking as servants upon the earth.

I saw the servant lifted to the throne,
His feed awash with likes and viral gold;
While princes skilled in wisdom walk alone,
Their names erased, their quiet virtues sold.

The loud and brash now claim the boardroom seat,
The humble faithful bear the cynic’s scorn;
Yet in this chaos, Christ, our King, I meet—
Who rode a donkey, wearing crown of thorn.

All is but vanity beneath the sun—
The fleeting scroll, the trending name, the post—
Fortune’s algorithm spins for anyone,
And crowns of influence vanish like a ghost.

No platform lasts, no follower count stays;
The wheel that raises fools will throw them down.
But Christ, the Servant-King, has shown the way:
He stooped the lowest to receive the crown.

He walked our dust, He bore our servant’s shame,
That we, once low, might reign with Him above.
Though earthly orders twist and shift in name,
In Jesus’ hands rests everlasting love.

Then walk in wisdom though the world invert,
Though servants ride in luxury and light,
And nobles trudge where no one comprehends.
Fix eyes on Christ—the true and lasting Light.
True rank is found in union with the Son,
Whose kingdom stands when all our days are done.

A Hymn Of Ceaseless Bounty by Debbie Harris

17 Sunday May 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Royally Redeemed, Spiritual Warfare

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Dear Precious Reader,

Have you ever been just overwhelmed by the goodness of our God and His many benefits? This is why I wrote this poem.In this tender hymn of ceaseless bounty, you are invited to behold God as the Eternal Giver—the One whose hand never closes, whose grace flows like oil that keeps pouring until every vessel overflows. With rich biblical imagery, the poem draws all of us to see the Lord as the daily Manna surrounding the camp, the Smitten Rock pouring living water, the soft rain on thirsty valleys, and the broad river that never sleeps. Every sunrise brings fresh mercy, every hour a new feast, and every grain of time trails a myriad of unseen kindnesses behind it. I marvel at the impossibility of counting God’s blessings—more than the dust of Jacob, more than I could ever number—yet each day He loads all of us with benefits and crowns our head with loving-kindness. The hymn rises to a joyful call: “Awake, my soul! Awake, dull tongue, and sing!” May it stir us to lett every instrument of praise join in, for the Everlasting Spring never fails. It ends with our own longing to remain in ceaseless gratitude until we stand ransomed and pure in His presence, where giving itself is swallowed up in fullness. May these verses stir your heart today as they have stirred mine—to taste and see the inexhaustible generosity of our King, and to respond with open-handed worship and quiet wonder.

Grace and peace to you,

(After 1 Timothy 6:17 and Spurgeon’s Morning Thought)

1 Timothy 6:17 (KJV)
Charge them that are rich in this world, that they be not highminded, nor trust in uncertain riches, but in the living God, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy;

O Thou who giv’st us richly all to enjoy,
Whose hand ne’er closeth, nor for moment stays,
Eternal Giver, Source without alloy,
Whose sun of grace through endless morning rays!
As oil that floweth where the vessels stand
Till every brim o’erfloweth with Thy store,
So dost Thou pour from Thy unstinting hand
Fresh mercy, new as dawn, and more, and more.
Thou art the manna round our camp that falls,
The smitten Rock whose living waters leap;
The rain that droppeth soft on thirsty vales,
The river broad that knoweth not to sleep.
Thy branches bend with fruit for mortal need,
Each day a feast, each hour a banquet spread;
No pilgrim turns unbless’d from Thy rich mead,
No hunger’d soul ariseth unfed.
The sands of time fall slow, yet ever trail
A myriad mercies in their golden wake;
The wings of hours are silver’d with Thy hail,
And every star a herald of Thy sake.
Who can recount the dust of Jacob’s gain,
Or number forth the fourth part of Thy grace?
Daily Thou loadest us, and yet again
Dost crown our heads with loving-kindness’ lace.
Awake, my soul! Awake, dull tongue, and sing!
Let psaltery and harp their voices raise;
For He who is the everlasting Spring
Can never fail, through all eternal days.
O King immortal, let my praise endure
As ceaseless as the bounty Thou dost send;
Till in Thy presence, ransomed and made pure,
I taste the fullness where all giving ends.

Abiding in Christ: Christ-Centered Practices for Cultivating the Fruit of Self-Control by Debbie Harris

16 Saturday May 2026

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

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Dear Precious Reader,

In a world that spins seemingly out of control—headlines screaming chaos, cultures unraveling, and hearts racing from one crisis to the next—it can feel as though everything is falling apart. Yet beneath the surface, all things are quietly falling into place according to the sovereign hand of God. In times like these, the quiet strength we need most is not louder voices or tighter grip on our own lives, but the steady fruit of self-control cultivated deep within by the Holy Spirit.That is why I wrote this poem.It is not a call to white-knuckled willpower or religious striving. Rather, it is an invitation to surrender: to fix our eyes on Christ, abide in the Vine, and let His life become ours. Each stanza traces the daily battles we all face—anger, lust, gluttony, sloth, and reckless words—and points them to the cross where they were already defeated. Self-control, as the poem declares, is not ultimately “Christ and me,” but “Christ in me.” It blooms not from clenched fists, but from open, yielded hands.My prayer is that these words would stir your heart to ask the Holy Spirit afresh: “Cultivate Your fruit in me.” May you find, in the quiet dawn where tempests start, that His gentle power is enough to tame every storm within.With hope in the One who holds both the world and our souls,

Galatians 5:22-23 (KJV)
But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.


Proverbs 25:28 (KJV)
He that hath no rule over his own spirit is like a city that is broken down, and without walls.

In the quiet dawn where tempests start,
The soul bows low and seeks His heart.
Not by its strength, but His alone,
It tames the flesh that claims its throne.
When anger rises like a flood,
His gentle word becomes its blood.
“Be slow to wrath,” the Scripture cries—
It breathes His name and watches it die.
The eyes that wander, lured by sight,
Are fixed on Calvary’s holy light.
The cross stands tall where lust was slain;
In His pure gaze, they break the chain.
When appetite demands its feast,
They turn to Bread from heaven’s east.
One taste of Him and lesser bread
Loses its hold upon the head.
In weary hours when sloth would creep,
They rise and pray while others sleep.
His Spirit stirs the willing soul—
Discipline becomes the joyful goal.
When words rush forth like unchecked fire,
They pause and let His peace inspire.
A tongue refined by holy flame
Speaks life instead of bringing shame.
Each battle won is not their own—
The Victor rose and claimed His throne.
Abiding in the Vine, they see:
Self-control is Christ in thee.
So day by day they train the will,
Not clenched in pride, but yielded still.
For in surrender, power flows—
The fruit of Spirit ever grows.
The Lord keeps them steadfast, makes them strong,
To run the race, to finish long.
Till every impulse bends the knee,
And all reflects the One who sets them free.
Amen.

Apart from Christ Alone: Without Me Ye Can Do Nothing by Debbie Harris

16 Saturday May 2026

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

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Dear Precious Reader,

The poem is a solemn meditation on the futility of human effort and ambition when pursued apart from Christ. It paints a vivid picture of worldly pursuits—glass castles on shifting sand, fading laurels, cracking cisterns, and towering empires of “gilded dust”—all destined to crumble into ruin. Strength, intellect, and pride ultimately fail; every triumph is temporary, every kingdom silent in the dust of oblivion.In powerful contrast, the poem turns to the hope found in Jesus, the true Vine and Cornerstone. Apart from Him, we can do nothing lasting, but grafted into His life, even the weakest life bears abundant fruit that time cannot destroy. His mercy, sealed at Calvary, rewrites our frailty into strength. It closes with an invitation: lay down your weary striving and find eternal rest and unquenchable light in the Savior.In essence, it is a call away from self-reliant Babel-building toward abiding in Christ—the only foundation that stands forever.

Grace and peace to you!

John 15:5 (KJV)
I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing.


In twilight halls where mortal echoes die,
We grasp at phantoms, chase the fleeting sigh—
Castles of glass upon the quaking sand,
Thorn-crowns of pride that cut the builder’s hand.
Apart from Jesus, the cistern cracks and dries,
Ambition’s blaze a guttering wick of lies.
Laurels curl brown beneath the withering sun,
And every triumph’s tale is soon undone.
The restless mind, in darkness seeking light,
Charts only mazes, blind to what is right.
The heart, devouring shadows for its bread,
Finds famine clothed in gold, and dreams long dead.
Kingdoms ascend in brass and gilded dust,
Then topple mute into oblivion’s rust.
The strong man’s sinew, scholar’s subtle art—
Both bow at last before the failing heart.
Yet in the Vine no tempest can uproot,
The Cornerstone no age can refute—
“Apart from Me ye can do nothing,” spake the Lord,
And grafted to His life, the barren bough
Bursts into clusters, heavy with living grace,
In secret orchards time cannot erase.
His mercy, crimson-scribed on Calvary’s tree,
Rewrites the ledger of our frailty.
Where weakness kneels and lifts its trembling plea,
His strength resounds in perfect symphony.
Let mortals raise their Babel spires high,
Forge ladders forged of dust against the sky—
All towers tilt, all empires turn to clay,
Save that which bears the Savior’s name alone.
Apart from Christ, we sail uncharted seas,
With tattered sails and no true compass breeze.
But rooted deep in Him, the weakest reed
Becomes a cedar, towering and freed.
In Jesus dwells the dawn that knows no night,
Eternal rivers of unquenchable light.
Come, wanderer, lay down thy weary load,
And rest forever in the Vine’s abode

One Hope for the World: The Transforming Power of Jesus Christ Our Lord by Debbie Harris

16 Saturday May 2026

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

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Dear Precious Reader,

In an unredeemed world wrapped in shadowed valleys and heavy despair, there is one radiant hope that shines undimmed: Jesus Christ our Lord.Through His amazing grace, the broken sinner is made new—a glorious new creation, victorious over sin and death. He shatters every chain that binds the soul, renews the heart, and restores the old life into wholeness. No human creed, no earthly throne, and no amount of gold can compare to the power of His redeeming blood.Rise, O creation! Let every redeemed heart sing with boldness and joy:Our only hope is Jesus Christ our King!

In shadowed valleys where despair holds sway,
No other hope sustains this weary world
Than grace that makes the sinner new each day—
A new creation, glorious, unfurled.

Victorious in light, triumphant still
O’er sin and death’s cold, unrelenting night,
Salvation flows from Calvary’s holy hill—
Found only in our Jesus Christ, the Light.

He breaks the chains that bind the wounded soul,
Renews the heart and makes the old man whole.
No human creed, no throne of gold or power
Can match the wonder of His cleansing blood.

Rise, O creation! Let the ransomed sing:
Our only hope is Jesus Christ our King!

The Heavens and Earth Sing Forth the Radiant Glory of Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ: The Lamb’s Free Gift of Redemption for All by Debbie Harris

15 Friday May 2026

Posted by in Christ-Created Nature, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Patriotic, Royally Redeemed, salvation

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Dear Precious Reader,

I wrote this poem straight from my heart to yours. In it, I invite you to walk with me through the whole earth, because every part of creation is shouting the glory of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.Look with me at the blazing dawn and the silent mountains lifting their heads like pulpits, proclaiming Christ as the eternal Light. See the meadows dressed in lilies and roses, each petal whispering of His thorn-crowned face and the free gift of His blood that washes every stain. Listen as the restless seas roar with thunderous anthems, yet carry the calm voice of Jesus saying “Peace, be still” to every storm-tossed heart. Walk with me through ancient forests where golden light falls like cathedral windows, and every leaf and branch speaks of resurrection and new life.Then lift your eyes to the starlit heavens, where the Milky Way and every constellation write His name across the cosmos. All of it—the stones, the stars, the waves, the flowers—bows before the Cross and the open tomb. Creation itself is preaching one clear message: Salvation is a gift, unearned and freely given through the Lamb once slain. It comes to us by faith alone in Jesus Christ, and in Him we receive His perfect righteousness.My prayer for you, dear reader, is simple: Receive this Gift of grace tonight. Let your soul rest in the redeeming light of our risen Lord.

With love and hope in Christ,

The whole earth is full of the glory of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ!
In blazing dawn where crimson banners fly,
The mountains lift their heads in silent praise;
Each sunlit peak a pulpit raised on high,
Proclaiming Christ, the Light of endless days.
Creation sings: “Behold the Lamb once slain—
His blood the free gift, washing every stain!”
The meadows bloom in tapestries of grace,
Where lilies white and roses crimson glow;
Each petal whispers of the Saviour’s face,
Who wore a crown of thorns that we might know
Salvation’s gift, unearned and freely given—
Eternal life for souls by sin once driven.
The restless seas in thunderous anthems roar,
Their waves like mercy rolling to the shore;
Yet in their depths the calm of Christ implores,
“Peace, be still”—the storm-tossed heart restored.
The ocean’s voice declares the wondrous story:
Redemption’s tide, the Lamb’s atoning glory.
Through ancient woods where golden light cascades,
And leaves in ruby fire dance on the breeze,
The forest cathedral in hushed wonder fades
Before the Cross that towers above the trees.
Each branch and bloom, in seasonal rebirth,
Echoes the Resurrection of the earth.
Above, the starlit vault in silence gleams,
A Milky Way of countless diamond fires;
Each constellation writes in cosmic beams
The name of Jesus, hope of all desires.
The heavens shout what mortal tongues confess:
“Salvation’s gift—through Christ, and Christ alone—
Freely received by faith, His righteousness!”
O Lord and Saviour, every stone and star,
Every wave and flower, Thy gospel tells;
Creation bows before the wounded Scar,
The open tomb where death and darkness fell.
The whole earth glows with Thy redeeming light—
Receive, O soul, His Gift of grace tonight!
Amen.

Behold the Potter’s Masterpiece: How Christ Gave Wings to Dust and Turned Weakness into Triumphant Song by Debbie Harris

14 Thursday May 2026

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

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I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.
— Philippians 4:13 (KJV)


But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us.
— 2 Corinthians 4:7 (KJV)


Then he answered and spake unto me, saying, This is the word of the LORD unto Zerubbabel, saying, Not by might, nor by power, but by my spirit, saith the LORD of hosts.

Zechariah 4:6 (KJV)

In realms of trial where impossible tasks arose,
A humble vessel, clay of mortal dust,
Faced towering seas and mountains clad in impossibilities
That mocked all human strength with iron thrust.
No arm of flesh could break the binding chain,
No mortal wit could chart the victor’s road;
Yet Heaven’s whisper pierced the hush of strain—
“Through Christ, all things!”—and glory’s torrent flowed.
Then surged the Almighty wind, not theirs but Thine,
A blaze of eagle-wings on dawn’s own crest;
The clay was lifted, crowned with fire divine,
And charged the breach in triumph manifest.
Through weary flood and trials that blocked the way,
Through walls of doubt that barred the shining road,
They rose exultant on the Lord’s own grace,
Each victory singing, “Christ has won the day!”
O splendor wrapped in weakness glorified!
The impossible yielded, the vast task bowed in awe,
The mountain danced, the chains of doubt dissolved,
While heaven’s trumpets rang without a flaw.
They stood transfixed upon the vict’ry field,
A fragile jar yet overflowing grace,
And marveled as the skies themselves revealed
The hand of God in every radiant trace.
Behold the Potter’s triumph fully unveiled—
From dust He forged a conqueror bold and bright;
The reed became a trumpet, strong and hailed,
The timid and anxious leaped on holy height!
All glory, honor, power to the Throne!
The vessel nothing wrought, yet all was won;
They only yielded, watched, and stood alone
In holy awe—for Christ the King had done it all, and won!

Celestial Investment by Debbie Harris

14 Thursday May 2026

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

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Dear Precious Reader,

Beloved of the Risen King, you who read these lines with weary eyes or hopeful heart—whether your hands are empty or your spirit feels the weight of unseen battles,know this: I write to you.I see you.The one who gives the cup of water when your own throat is dry. The one who breaks the loaf for hungry strangers while your own table is sparse. The one who prays in secret, sows in silence, and rises each morning to love anyway, though no trumpet sounds and no crowd applauds.Do not lose heart, dear one. Your labor is written in indelible light. Every quiet kindness, every tear offered in prayer, every act of faithfulness done in the shadow of “not enough” —these are not forgotten. They are seeds. And the Risen Gardener tends them with hands that still bear the scars of love.When the world tells you that your portion is small, remember: the One who owns the cattle on a thousand hills calls you His child. When iron gates of circumstance refuse to open, remember: the stone that sealed the tomb was rolled away by the breath of God. Nothing can stand against the Victor who conquered death for you.So lift your head, precious reader. Let your hidden deeds shine like stars in the night sky of this passing age.The heavenly ledger is open, and the angels rejoice over every cup poured, every loaf shared, every chain-breaking word spoken in His name.Your poverty is only temporary.Your treasure is eternal. And on that Day when the Lion and the Lamb welcome you home, you will hear the words that make every hidden tear worth it:“Well done, good and faithful servant… Enter into the joy of your Master.”Until then, keep sowing.Keep loving.Keep believing. The dawn is coming. Christ is risen — and because He lives, your story is not over. It is only beginning.With all the affection of a fellow pilgrim who knows the road is narrow but the reward is infinite,

Your sister in the Risen King

To every child of little means who sows in secret—
cup of water, loaf of bread, and quiet faithfulness—
your labor is not in vain.
This is for you, beloved of the Risen King.

When earthly coffers stand with iron gates
And mortal wealth slips through the beggar’s hand,
When fields lie fallow, sealed by cruel fates,
And hope itself seems buried in the sand—

Fear not, O soul! Lift high thy conquering head!
Let not thy heart in shadowed silence pine,
Nor envy those who heap their fleeting store—
For Christ has triumphed! He is risen from the dead!
Thy righteousness, thy victory divine!

His scarlet robe now clothes thee royally,
His wounded hands have shattered every chain;
What earth denies, His boundless triumph brings,
And crowns thy poverty with endless gain!

Arise and shine! Let every righteous deed
Blaze as thy treasure—cup of water poured,
A loaf for hungry souls in deepest need,
A word that breaks the captive’s iron cord!

These are the coins no thief can ever claim,
The gold no rust nor moth shall e’er defile.
The heavenly ledgers blaze with living flame,
Recording every act with heaven’s joyful smile.

So labor not for dust that time devours—
Sow boldly in His love and reap eternal powers!
For Christ the Victor lives and reigns in thee—
Thy present strength, thy song, thy royalty!

When evening falls and earthly lights grow dim,
When labor seems but scattered seed once sown,
Look up! The risen King who conquered sin
Prepares His banquet at His glorious throne.

There every tear upon the barren ground,
Each hidden kindness offered in the night,
Shall blaze as crowns of glory, jewel-crowned,
In mansions flooded with unquenchable light!

Therefore, rejoice, thou child of little means—
Thy Father rules the measure of thy days!
Let Jesus be thy wealth, thy joy, thy dreams;
Let His triumphant Name be all thy praise!

This fleeting life shall soon be swallowed whole
In everlasting triumph, full and vast.
The Lion and the Lamb upon the throne
Declares thee victor—“Enter joy at last!”

Hallelujah! Christ is risen! Death is slain!
All hail the Lamb who reigns forevermore!
My treasure is in heaven—Christ alone—
My King, my Victory, my All in All!

No Such Thing as Regular: Crowned as Royal Heirs of the Eternal Kingdom by Debbie Harris

13 Wednesday May 2026

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Royally Redeemed, Spiritual Warfare, Triumphant

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In Heaven’s blazing gaze where no mere mortal hides,
No “regular” soul exists—only the sanctified.
You are redeemed, plunged deep in the Lamb’s own crimson flood,
Washed whiter than fresh snow by His holy, healing blood.

Justified, forgiven, sealed with Pentecostal fire,
Joint-heir with Christ the Lion, risen from death’s dark pyre.
Royal sons and daughters, breathing His immortal breath,
Children of the King of Kings, robed in righteousness.

Your Father rules on sapphire throne wreathed in stars and flame,
His glory burns within you, pulsing out His holy name.
All glorious within—a temple forged of purest gold,
A living crown of splendor that eternity can’t hold.

When hellish darts come screaming through the shadowed midnight air,
Tipped with poison, forged in hate, barbed with black despair—
Rise, O royal heir! Let heaven’s trumpet blast!
Lift high your shield of faith and watch those arrows fall at last.

They shatter into sparks before the Morning Star’s pure light,
For you are blood-bought royalty, arrayed in garments bright.
No common traveler here—no victim of the night—
You are a prince, a princess, crowned in everlasting light.

Regular? Never. Redeemed? Forever!
Crowned with living jewels no darkness can dissever.
Sealed by the Spirit’s flame, you shine with heaven’s might—
Walk tall, O child of the King, robed in glory, robed in light.

You are not ordinary—
You are eternally, gloriously royal.
Go shine, royal one.

While On Your Knees In Prayer, Miracles Happen by Debbie Harris

12 Tuesday May 2026

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

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While on your knees in prayer,
miracles happen

— not by luck, not by stars,
but because Christ is the Source.

He who spoke worlds into being
now bends near when you bow low.
Every healing, every door flung open,
every chain that suddenly falls
flows straight from the hands
still marked by nails.

The weight you carry loosens
because the One who carried the cross
now carries you.

What seemed impossible
bows its knee at His name
and stays.

Eyes closed, you see the scars
that bought every miracle.

In the hush between heartbeats,
Christ Himself is listening—
and He answers.

Keep kneeling.
This ground is holy.
Miracles are listening,
and their Source
is always Christ.