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Salt and Light in the Last Days: Watchmen Warning, Trumpeting Salvation’s Call by Debbie Harris

23 Tuesday Jun 2026

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Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

In these darkening days, when the signs of the times press heavy upon us—like this recent Iran deal that has left so many faithful hearts discouraged and Israel feeling betrayed by allies—we must remember our calling. I write not from despair but from burning hope. We are called to live as salt and light—preserving truth, shining amid decay—while our hearts remain fixed on a Kingdom not of this world. Our hope is not in shifting alliances or earthly powers, but in the unchanging God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. He who watches over Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps.

Do not lose heart. May these lines stir you to stand boldly: loving what God loves, hating what He hates, watching on the wall, warning against evil, and trumpeting the glorious Gospel louder still while time remains. The King is coming. Let us be found faithful.

With urgency and affection,

The Poet

In this dark age our feet yet tread the sod,

Yet hope abides not here where empires fall;

As salt we season, preserve the path of God,

Though not of this world—our true home is all.

More in the Word, less in its fleeting tide,

We walk as strangers, pilgrims through the night;

The miry clay cannot our souls abide,

For heaven’s call outshines its false delight.

End-time scrolls unroll their solemn page:

Nations conspire, betraying Israel’s vine;

They scorn the covenant, inflame their rage—

Yet we remain, as salt, by grace divine.

We flavor truth where decay would claim the day,

Loving what God loves and hating what He hates;

We take our stand against the evil’s sway,

And shine as beacons ‘gainst the gathering storm.

May we be watchmen, watchwomen on the wall,

Warning all against the evils of the day;

Yet trumpeting salvation’s glorious call,

For time is short—the signs upon the earth obey.

Not bound by earthly crowns that rot away,

Our citizenship is where the angels form;

The fig tree greens, the birth pangs multiply,

Wars thunder loud, false prophets fill the air.

But we, preserved by Him who cannot die,

Proclaim His coming—bright, beyond compare;

So let us shine as salt upon the land,

In this world present, yet from it set free.

Our King approaches with the trumpet’s grand—

Redeemed, restored, for all eternity.

Fix eyes on glory past the temporal fray,

Where salt finds purpose in the Savior’s hand;

Not of this realm, yet salt till break of day—

In Christ our hope, the Rock on which we stand.

Through Jesus Christ We Behold Eternal Sunshine: A Hymn of Grace Celebrating the Cross, the Empty Tomb, and the Glorious Light of the Lamb by Debbie Harris

21 Sunday Jun 2026

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Dear Reader,

From the poet’s heart:

In these lines I have sought to echo the thunderous joy of Charles Spurgeon, that prince of preachers who ever lifted high the Sun of Righteousness. May this humble verse stir your soul to fix its gaze upon Jesus Christ, in whom alone we find eternal sunshine—unclouded, unending, and freely given to every weary pilgrim who trusts in Him. Read it slowly, aloud if you can, and let the ancient truths shine afresh in your spirit.

Grace and peace be yours in abundance through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Malachi 4:2 (KJV)

But unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings; and ye shall go forth, and grow up as calves of the stall.

In realms where tempests rage and shadows creep,

Where sin’s dark clouds their heavy burdens heap,

A radiant beam from heaven’s throne descends—

Through Jesus Christ, eternal sunshine bends!

Behold the cross, a tree of wondrous grace,

Where blood-red rivers wash the sinner’s face;

Its arms outstretched like golden rays unfurled,

Illuminate the weary, broken world.

No more the night of guilt’s oppressive gloom,

No more the frost of death’s impending doom—

The Sun of Righteousness arises bright,

With healing wings that chase away the night.

See how the valleys bloom in verdant green,

Where once the thorns of sorrow pierced unseen;

The desert hearts, once parched and cracked with pain,

Now drink the living streams of heaven’s rain.

Mountains of doubt dissolve in morning light,

As crystal dews of mercy kiss the height;

The lily pure, the rose of Sharon fair,

Proclaim His glory in the fragrant air.

O soul adrift on oceans wild and vast,

Where waves of trial crash and thunder blast—

Lift up thine eyes! The Pilot stands serene,

His voice commands the storm to calm, serene.

Through Jesus Christ, the skies forever blue,

Eternal sunshine bathes the ransomed few;

No eclipse dims the Lamb upon the throne,

Whose glory lights the city as His own.

The pilgrim’s path, though rugged, gleams with gold,

Each step a jewel in the crown foretold;

The ancient gates of pearl swing open wide,

Revealing pastures where the saints abide.

No winter’s chill, no autumn’s fading leaf,

But spring eternal, free from pain and grief—

In robes of white, beneath the endless day,

We bask forever in His shining ray.

Come, burdened one, beneath the yoke of care,

Lay down thy load; the Saviour’s yoke is fair.

His gentle hand will lead through fields of peace,

Where sorrows end and joys forever increase.

The chains of fear that bound the captive soul

Now melt like frost before His bright control;

In liberty divine, the spirit sings,

And soars on wings of love beneath His wings.

See heaven’s throne, where crystal rivers flow,

And trees of life in endless summer grow;

No need of sun or moon to give their light,

The Lamb Himself dispels all shades of night.

The ransomed throng in white arrayed proclaim,

“Worthy the Lamb that once for sinners slain!”

Their voices blend in everlasting praise,

Through endless ages, in undimmed blaze.

O death, where is thy sting? Thy victory lost!

The grave no more can claim its chilling frost.

For He who rose triumphant from the tomb

Has turned our midnight into endless noon.

The former things have passed, forgotten, gone;

Behold, all things are new in morning’s dawn.

Through Jesus Christ, the Victor over all,

Eternal sunshine crowns both great and small.

Awake, my soul, and sing this joyful strain,

Let every tongue repeat the glad refrain:

Through Jesus Christ, the Light that knows no end,

The King whose throne the heavens vast defend.

Come, weary one, and taste this joy divine—

Eternal sunshine, yours and ever mine!

No cloud shall dim, no storm shall ever rise,

In Christ alone our sun forever shines.

If Deliverance Delays for the People of Esther and Mordecai: The Iranian Serpent Reigns — Defined by Darkness by Debbie Harris

18 Thursday Jun 2026

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A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

These words were written with trembling hands and a heavy heart. In the spirit of Esther and Mordecai, this poem gives voice to a people once more standing beneath gallows raised by those who seek their total destruction. The demonic Muslim-led regime in Iran is a present terror, boasting annihilation while the world often turns away.

Yet I write with unshaken hope: the same Jesus who cast out demons, who broke the power of hell, and who rose victorious over every dark throne still reigns. His authority is greater than any serpent, any regime, any blood-red crescent. Even if deliverance tarries, the Lion of Judah — Jesus the Messiah — will have the final word. The night may devour for a season, but it cannot overcome the One who has already conquered sin, death, and every demonic force.

Pray with the remnant. Fast and cry out. Jesus holds the scroll of history and the keys of hell itself.

With solemn hope anchored in Christ,

The Poet

In shadowed chambers where the gallows loom,

The seed of Esther and Mordecai arise.

Beneath a tyrant’s blood-red crescent moon,

They lift their prayers against demonic skies.

Haman’s heirs in tunnels dark and deep,

With rocket’s shriek and suicide’s embrace,

Have sworn the ancient covenant to break

And blot out Jacob’s name from every place.

Yet sackcloth hearts in hidden rooms still fast,

Mothers, children, elders on their knees;

Their whispered pleas through tear and smoke ascend—

For if deliverance delays, what tragedy?

If freedom tarries, demonic horror reigns:

The serpent’s spawn will feast on blood and bone,

Cities turned to ash, the innocent slain,

A Holocaust renewed beneath their throne.

Mordecai still paces sleepless walls,

Esther dons her royal robes of faith;

“No accident this terror’s bitter hour—

For such a time as this,” the Spirit saith.

The serpent regime coils with poison breath,

Boasting death from Gaza’s pits to Tehran’s throne;

Yet Heaven’s ledger may still turn—or not—

The God of Purim sits upon His own.

O remnant of the Star and Shield, hold fast!

The dice of Haman roll across the land,

We do not know if freedom comes at last,

Or if the night devours us—yet defines us where we stand.

Sing, O Israel, though the night is long,

The scroll of Esther burns within your veins;

Each tefillah a hammer on the strong,

Each Shabbat candle breaks what darkness gains.

The Lion of Judah stirs—yet may stay still,

His roar withheld behind the veil of flame;

What man devised for evil, God alone will will—

Reversal dawns… or else the darkness claims.

From crimson banners torn and gallows built,

The wicked laugh upon the swords they drew;

Devoured or delivered, this trial defines us through and through—

We do not know if freedom comes… yet still we cry, O God, turn the plot… or we die.

**O Jesus, turn the plot—our hope is in Your might!**

The Silent Tragedy: When the Word Sin Is Eradicated from a Culture by Debbie Harris

06 Saturday Jun 2026

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Dear Reader,

From the poet:

In an age that has quietly erased the word sin from its vocabulary, I offer this poem not as condemnation, but as a solemn reminder and an urgent invitation. Once we lose the honest naming of our rebellion against God and His good order, we also lose the path to true forgiveness and restoration.

May these lines stir the conscience, awaken the heart, and turn every soul toward the only One who can save us from our sins—Jesus Christ our Lord.

Will you and I be among those who still dare to call sin sin, and thereby point a broken world to the Savior?

In elder days when thunder voiced the Law

And prophets walked the flinty roads of old,

The word sin rang as iron on the soul—

A blade that clove the heart, a bell of gold

That tolled repentance ere the grave grew cold.

Now from the common tongue the word is fled,

Like some archaic curse no longer named.

The pulpits soften, courts declare it dead,

And schools instruct the young: “No soul is blamed.”

All acts are neutral flowers, self-blessed, untamed.

O tragic void! Where once the pilgrim knelt

Beneath the weight of wrong and cried for grace,

Now mirrors only flatter, conscience melts

Into a mist of “feelings,” “choice,” and “space.”

No fall remains; thus no redemption waits.

The ancient bards knew better. Homer sang

Of wrath that spoiled the host and felled the brave;

Virgil beheld the guilty shades who clang

Their chains in Tartarus, unshriven, save

By memory of trespass and the grave.

Dante, fierce Florentine, with measured tread

Descended hell’s nine circles, naming each

By sin’s true name—fraud, lust, pride, the dread

Of treason’s frozen lake. No gentle speech

Could blunt the horror; truth alone could teach.

Milton, blind but seeing, raised his song

To justify the ways of God to men,

And showed how one transgression, vast and strong,

Brought death and all our woe. Yet even then

The greater arc of mercy rose again.

But strip away the word and what remains?

A culture sleek with self, where every vice

Is rechristened “lifestyle,” “identity,” or “gains.”

No prodigal returns; no broken cries

Ascend. The temple stands, but God’s house lies

In ruins of the tongue. The heart grows coarse,

Untroubled by the stain it will not see.

Ambition swells to empire without remorse,

And cruelty wears the mask of liberty.

The final darkness falls—yet no one flees.

Restore the word, sharp as a surgeon’s knife,

That cuts the canker out before it kills.

Let sin once more awaken mortal strife

Between the soul and its rebellious will,

Till humbled knees recall the ancient skill

Of seeking pardon. Only then may rise

The triumph of the Cross that ends all pain:

Forgiveness purchased at Redemption’s price,

Where sin confessed is washed in crimson rain,

And man, once fallen, stands upright again.

Will you and I be those who call sin sin,

Thereby pointing all to the Savior strong—

Who saves lost souls from every stain within

Through Jesus Christ our Lord, the endless song

Of grace that makes the broken whole, restored.

The Christ-Centered Poet’s Heart: A Warrior’s Blazing Golden Heart Clothed in Velvet Victory and Resurrection Fire by Debbie Harris

06 Saturday Jun 2026

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Dear Reader,

If these lines have reached your eyes, know this: the heart that wrote them is no delicate bloom trembling in the wind. It is a warrior’s heart—hammered on the anvil of Calvary, refined in resurrection fire, and clothed in the velvet of Christ’s own compassion.

I do not write to impress the world, but to remind every soul who battles in secret that strength and tenderness are not opposites. They are twin flames kindled by the same nail-pierced hand. The Lion of Judah roars, yet the Lamb still weeps with you. In Him, your fiercest wounds become weapons, your deepest sorrows become songs, and your broken places become banners of victory.

Rise, beloved. Charge with poems as swords. The gates of hell cannot stand. Glory awaits, and the King who calls you “more than conqueror” rides at your side.

With triumphant love and velvet fire,

The Poet

Beneath the breastplate forged in heaven’s blaze,

A golden heart of warrior’s blazing ore

Pulses with resurrection thunder raised,

Victorious, yet wrapped in velvet’s core.

No fragile glass to fracture at a sigh—

But royal velvet, dyed in crimson flood,

Where nail-scarred hands have woven mercy high

And crowned the storm with banners soaked in blood.

This poet’s soul, a sword of flame unsheathed,

Wields poems like lightning against the dragon’s night;

It charges through the gates of hell, victorious,

Roaring triumph in the fiercest fight.

For Christ the Lion-Lamb has loosed the roar

That turns the fiercest heart to velvet’s golden shore—

A trumpet blast of glory evermore!

The Demonic Subversion of Liberty: The Enemy’s Cunning Use of Church-State Separation to Expel the Almighty and Sacred Scripture from the Nation’s Public Squares by Debbie Harris

06 Saturday Jun 2026

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

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A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

In this darkening hour, when the public square lies desolate and the voices of faith are driven into whispered corners, I set forth this poem not as mere verse, but as a prophetic lament and a clarion call. The enemy of souls has long wielded the noble phrase “separation of church and state” as a demonic sword—twisting its original intent to shield the church from tyranny into a weapon to exile Almighty God and His Holy Bible from the very lifeblood of the nation.

What began as a safeguard for liberty has been forged in hell’s own furnace into a barrier against the Light itself. Schools no longer echo with the fear of the Lord. Courtrooms stand stripped of the Ten Commandments. Public squares, once alive with prayer and sacred song, now bow before the cold idols of secularism, pride, and fleshly license. This is no accident of history, but a calculated subversion—a great deception designed to unmoor a people from their Maker and prepare the ground for darker principalities.

Yet the Word of God cannot be chained. The same Scriptures that kindled the hearts of our Founders still burn with unquenchable fire. This poem is offered in the spirit of the ancient prophets: to expose the serpent’s cunning, to mourn what has been lost, and to stir the remnant to holy boldness. Church and state may rightly walk in parallel paths, but no wall forged by man—or devil—can separate the living God from those who seek Him.

May these lines awaken slumbering consciences, rebuke the powers of darkness, and kindle again the holy flame that once made this land a beacon. Return, O nation, to the Rock from which you were hewn. The King of kings yet reigns, and His Word shall have the final victory.

In solemn hope and unyielding faith,

The Poet

In shadowed halls where once the Light held sway,

The ancient serpent coils with cunning art,

And whispers lies that twist the founding day,

To rend the sacred from the nation’s heart.

“Separation!” cries the demonic host,

A wall of stone where none was meant to rise,

To bar the Throne of Grace from coast to coast,

And quench the Lamp that lit the Founders’ eyes.

With guile he cloaks his malice in the law,

As if the Lord were foe to liberty;

Yet Jefferson’s pen, in wisdom’s awe,

Spoke church from state, not God from you and me.

Now courts profane decree the Bible banned,

From schoolhouse walls where children once were taught

The fear of Him who made both sea and land,

And moral law that tyrants’ schemes have wrought.

The enemy exults in empty squares,

Where crosses fall and carols fade to dust;

No Ten Commands to guide the judge’s cares,

No prayer to pierce the halls of power’s lust.

He sows division, calls it tolerance high,

While altars crumble ’neath the secular throne;

The public square, once open to the sky,

Now bows to idols carved of flesh and stone.

O blinded age, that deems the Gospel chain,

When freedom’s root in Scripture deep was set!

The enemy hath used this twisted rein

To loose the beast and bind the saints in debt.

Yet Heaven laughs at schemes of mortal spite—

The Word of God no edict can confine;

Though veiled in courts of false enlightened night,

It burns eternal in the heart of man divine.

Arise, ye faithful, rend the serpent’s guise!

Let truth reclaim the square where once it shone;

For church and state may walk in parallel skies,

But God above shall never be dethroned.

The Bible’s light no darkness can eclipse—

It calls through time, a trumpet loud and clear:

Return, O land, from error’s dark eclipse,

And crown the King whom angels all revere.

From Dust and Frailty to the Gem-Studded Garments of Salvation: A Hymn of Divine Clothing and Holy Awe by Debbie Harris

04 Thursday Jun 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Pleasing God Not Man, Royally Redeemed, salvation, Thanksgiving, Triumphant

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Note to the Reader from the Poet

Dear Reader,

In the quiet tension between creaturely frailty and divine generosity, this hymn was conceived. We stand perpetually before the paradox Scripture never lets us escape: we are dust — fragile, fleeting, marked by the fractures of original and ongoing sin — and yet the same Creator who fashioned us from the ground now stoops to array that very dust in garments of celestial splendor.

The poem does not merely celebrate a theological idea; it traces a transformative arc that mirrors the gospel itself. From the scattering wind of Psalm 103:14 and the weakness confessed in 2 Corinthians 12:9, through the empowering mercy of Isaiah 40 and the jeweled bridal splendor of Isaiah 61:10, it presses toward the astonishing promise of 2 Peter 1:4 — that we might become partakers of the divine nature. Each stanza is an act of remembrance and aspiration: remembering our low estate so that we might more fully adore the height of His condescension.

The gem-studded robe is no ornamental fancy. It is the righteousness of Christ, woven on heaven’s loom, encrusted with the blood-red ruby of atonement, the sapphire depths of unfailing grace, the emerald hope of resurrection life, and the diamond fire of covenant fidelity. To wear it is to walk in holy servanthood — yoked yet free, bowed yet exalted, weak yet wielding uncreated light.

May these lines not merely be read, but prayed. Speak them slowly in your secret place. Let the weight of your own dust press you deeper into the mercy that clothes you. Let the imagery carry you past sentiment into awe — speechless, trembling, joyful awe — before the throne where the Lamb slain stands worthy.

For the God who remembers we are dust has never forgotten us. He has clothed us instead, and called us His own.

With bowed heart and lifted eyes,

The Poet

Scriptural Foundation

Psalm 103:14 – We are dust

KJV: “For he knoweth our frame; he remembereth that we are dust.”

NIV: “For he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust.”

AMP: “For He knows our [mortal] frame; He remembers that we are [merely] dust.”

2 Corinthians 12:9 – Strength in weakness

KJV: “And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.”

NIV: “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’”

AMP: “But He has said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you [My lovingkindness and My mercy are more than enough—always available—regardless of the situation]; for [My] power is being perfected [and is completed and shows itself most effectively] in [your] weakness.’”

Isaiah 40:29 – Power to the faint

KJV: “He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength.”

NIV: “He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.”

AMP: “He gives strength to the weary, And to him who has no might He increases power.”

Isaiah 61:10 – Garments of salvation and robe of righteousness

KJV: “I will greatly rejoice in the LORD, my soul shall be joyful in my God; for he hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, he hath covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decketh himself with ornaments, and as a bride adorneth herself with her jewels.”

NIV: “I delight greatly in the LORD; my soul rejoices in my God. For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of his righteousness, as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.”

AMP: “I will rejoice greatly in the LORD, My soul will exult in my God; For He has clothed me with garments of salvation, He has covered me with a robe of righteousness, As a bridegroom puts on a turban, And as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.”

2 Peter 1:4 – Partakers of the divine nature

KJV: “Whereby are given unto us exceeding great and precious promises: that by these ye might be partakers of the divine nature…”

NIV: “Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature…”

AMP: “For by these He has bestowed on us His precious and magnificent promises [of inexpressible value], so that by them you may… become sharers of the divine nature.”

O Lord, we are but dust the wind may strew,

Frail clay unformed, by sin’s dark tempest torn,

Yet from Thy throne where living mercies dew,

Thy hand descends — and we, once lost, are born.

Thy strength, a flame that leaps through shadowed veins,

Arrays our tatters in celestial white;

The yoke of holy service gently reigns,

And lifts the bowed to wield unyielding light.

No more the slave beneath the fleshly rod,

We stand enrobed in righteousness divine —

A garment vast, by heaven’s own shuttle shod,

With jewels blazing where Thy glories shine.

See rubies red as covenantal blood,

Sapphires deep as oceans of Thy grace;

Emeralds green with hope’s eternal flood,

And pearls like tears that washed the sinner’s face.

Amethysts of awe crown every seam,

Diamonds of pardon flash with sovereign fire;

Upon the hem where healing virtues stream,

The living waters spark in ceaseless choir.

Before Thy throne we bow, in dust made bold,

Adoring hearts too vast for tongue to tell;

In speechless awe Thy righteousness behold,

And join the ransomed in their triumph swell.

Though dust we be, and frailty our first name,

Thy servant-power makes kings of earthen clods;

Clad in salvation’s jewel-woven flame,

We rise, redeemed — partakers of our God.

Glory to the Lamb who clothes the lost!

Delight in the Royally Redeemed: A Poetic Meditation on Psalm 16 and the Royal Priesthood of Believers by Debbie Harris

04 Thursday Jun 2026

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Psalm 16:3-4 (KJV)

As for the saints that are in the earth, and to the excellent, in whom is all my delight.

Their sorrows shall be multiplied that hasten after another god: their drink offerings of blood will I not offer, nor take up their names into my lips.

Psalm 16:3-4 (NIV)

I say of the holy people who are in the land,

“They are the noble ones in whom is all my delight.”

Those who run after other gods will suffer more and more.

I will not pour out libations of blood to such gods

or take up their names on my lips.

Psalm 16:3-4 (AMP)

As for the saints (godly people) who are in the land,

They are the majestic and the noble and the excellent ones in whom is all my delight.

The sorrows [pain and suffering] of those who have chosen another god will be multiplied [because of their idolatry];

I will not pour out their drink offerings of blood,

Nor will I take their names upon my lips.

1 Peter 2:9 (KJV)

But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light.

1 Peter 2:9 (NIV)

But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.

1 Peter 2:9 (AMP)

But you are A CHOSEN RACE, A royal PRIESTHOOD, A CONSECRATED NATION, A [special] PEOPLE FOR God’s OWN POSSESSION, so that you may proclaim the excellencies [the wonderful deeds and virtues and perfections] of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light.

Dear Reader,

In the quiet tension between ancient covenant and present exile, this poem was born—not as mere ornament, but as an act of re-seeing. Psalm 16 unveils a profound paradox: the psalmist’s delight is not first in abstract divinity, but in the concrete, embodied community of the saints—those majestic, noble, and excellent ones who bear the scars and splendor of redemption. When Peter later declares us a royal priesthood, he does not invent a new identity; he unfolds what David glimpsed. The “royally redeemed” are no romantic ideal. They are flesh-and-blood bearers of divine kingship, purchased at infinite cost, set apart amid a world that still bows to bloodless yet deadly idols: power, spectacle, self, certainty, distraction.

To delight in them is an act of spiritual resistance and profound joy. It is to choose the excellent over the easy, the rooted cedar over the fleeting vine, the star-cluster of holy kinship over the isolated glow of false gods. The poem lingers in this tension because our age multiplies sorrows precisely where David warned—through frantic pursuit of lesser loves that promise everything and deliver chains. Yet in the company of the royally redeemed, sorrow is transfigured; majesty emerges not despite the storm but through it.

May these lines invite you not only to admire beauty, but to inhabit it—to recognize your own royal bearing, to cleave to the noble ones around you, and to refuse, with quiet defiance, every name that would steal your tongue and heart. In their light, we taste already the Kingdom that is coming, where delight is no longer contested but complete.

With reverence for the Word and wonder at the saints,

The Poet

In realms where covenantal glory gleams,

The royally redeemed arise in splendor bright,

As ancient cedars robed in heaven’s light,

Majestic pillars carved by sovereign hands.

Noble in bearing, excellent in grace,

They stand as jewels upon the sacred crown,

A royal priesthood, ransomed from the night,

In whom the psalmist’s deepest joys abound.

Their footsteps trace the paths of covenant love,

Like rivers carving valleys rich with life;

Redeemed by blood far purer than the stain

Of idol altars drenched in crimson rite.

He sees their worth as stars in clustered throng,

A holy nation bathed in royal hue,

Excellent souls whose light dispels the gloom,

And draws his heart in glad, unwavering tune.

Yet swift the shadows claim the errant soul

Who hastens after gods of dust and gold;

Their sorrows swell as tempests rend the plain,

Like thorns that choke the once-fertile field.

He turns from crimson cups that bleed for naught,

Nor lifts their shadowed names upon his tongue,

Lest chains of darkness bind the spirit’s flight

And mar the royal song of true delight.

O royally redeemed, majestic band,

You shine as beacons on the pilgrim’s way—

Noble in trial, excellent in faith,

A fellowship where living waters play.

Through tempests fierce and valleys veiled in shade,

Your rooted strength upholds the chosen few;

The psalmist cleaves to you with steadfast gaze,

Where truth endures and grace forever reigns.

Thus blooms the ancient verse in timeless fire,

A hymn to loyalty’s unyielding flame:

The heart that rests in holy kin refined

Rejects the hollow lure of fleeting fame.

In you, O royally redeemed and bright,

Majestic, noble, excellent and true,

The singer finds his purest, holiest light—

A foretaste of the Kingdom ever new.

What the Lord Truly Requires: Loving Mercy That Embraces Truth, Rejects Deception, and Calls All to Eternal Redemption by Debbie Harris

04 Thursday Jun 2026

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

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Micah 6:8 (KJV)

He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the LORD require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?

Micah 6:8 (AMP)

He has told you, O man, what is good; And what does the LORD require of you Except to be just, and to love [and to diligently practice] kindness (compassion), And to walk humbly with your God [setting aside any overconfident trust in your own power]?

Ephesians 4:15 (KJV)

But speaking the truth in love, may grow up into him in all things, which is the head, even Christ.

Ephesians 4:15 (AMP)

But speaking the truth in love [in all things—both our speech and our lives expressing His truth], let us grow up in all things into Him [following His example], who is the Head—Christ.

2 Peter 3:9 (KJV)

The Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some men count slackness; but is longsuffering to us-ward, not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance.

2 Peter 3:9 (AMP)

The Lord does not delay [as though He were unable to act] and is not slow about His promise, as some count slowness, but is [extraordinarily] patient toward you, not wishing for any to perish but for all to come to repentance.

Ezekiel 33:11 (KJV)

Say unto them, As I live, saith the Lord GOD, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked; but that the wicked turn from his way and live: turn ye, turn ye from your evil ways; for why will ye die, O house of Israel?

John 8:32 (KJV)

And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.

John 14:6 (KJV)

Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.

1 Timothy 2:3-4 (KJV)

For this is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Saviour; Who will have all men to be saved, and to come unto the knowledge of the truth.

Beloved reader, true mercy is no shallow sentiment or convenient silence that shields the soul from holy confrontation. It is the profound fusion of unflinching truth and unwavering love, the very heartbeat of the Divine requirement laid bare in Micah 6:8. To love mercy is not to soften justice or dilute conviction, but to wield truth as a surgeon’s blade—cutting away deception so that real healing and restoration may emerge. It echoes the apostle’s call to speak the truth in love, maturing us into Christ Himself, while reflecting the Father’s longsuffering heart that desires none to perish but all to embrace repentance and life.

In this sacred tension, mercy refuses the lie of false tolerance that leaves sinners slumbering toward destruction; instead, it shines the unyielding light of Christ—the Way, the Truth, and the Life—inviting every heart to freedom, transformation, and eternal communion with God. It yearns for God’s highest good for all: not mere happiness, but salvation, holiness, and humble fellowship with the Creator. May these verses and the lines that follow stir within you a deeper hunger to embody this costly, redemptive mercy: courageous enough to confront, compassionate enough to restore, and Christ-centered enough to point always toward the cross where justice and mercy kissed.

What doth the Lord require, O mortal man?

To do justly, love mercy’s truthful hand,

And walk humbly where His footsteps ran—

For mercy speaks the truth, yet takes its stand.

Not soft deceit that lets the sinner sleep,

But light that wounds to heal, and calls to rise;

True mercy longs for all God’s best to keep—

Salvation’s gift, where grace and justice rise.

He wills not one should perish in the night,

But turns to life through truth that sets us free;

Compassion clothes the soul in heaven’s light,

And bids the lost: “Come home and live in Me.”

Thus mercy, truth, and humble faith entwine—

The path of life, the will of the Divine

Be Like the Bereans – Testing Every Word Against Eternal Truth by Debbie Harris

04 Thursday Jun 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Pleasing God Not Man, Royally Redeemed, Spiritual Warfare

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Dear Reader,

In a world loud with opinions, quick answers, and shallow soundbites, the ancient Bereans stand as a quiet, shining rebuke. They did not swallow teaching whole simply because it came from an apostle’s lips. Instead, they opened the Scriptures daily with eager, honest hearts and tested every claim against the unchanging truth of God’s Word.

This poem is my humble invitation for you to join their noble company. May these verses stir in you a fresh hunger—not for mere knowledge, but for verified, living truth. Faith is never meant to be blind; it is meant to be examined, rooted, and radiant.

Wherever you are on your journey, I pray you will dare to be Berean. Open the Book. Test the words. Seek until you find. The treasure is worth every diligent hour.

With hope and prayer,

The Poet

Acts 17:11

KJV (King James Version):

These were more noble than those in Thessalonica, in that they received the word with all readiness of mind, and searched the scriptures daily, whether those things were so.

NIV (New International Version):

Now the Berean Jews were of more noble character than those in Thessalonica, for they received the message with great eagerness and examined the Scriptures every day to see if what Paul said was true.

AMP (Amplified Bible):

Now these people were more noble and open-minded than those in Thessalonica, so they received the message [of salvation through faith in the Christ] with great eagerness, examining the Scriptures daily to see if these things were so.

ESV (English Standard Version):

Now these Jews were more noble than those in Thessalonica; they received the word with all eagerness, examining the Scriptures daily to see if these things were so.

In ancient Berea, where wisdom held sway,

A noble folk gathered at break of each day.

Not swift to believe what the preacher proclaimed,

But eager they listened, their hearts unashamed.

With scrolls unrolled under the sun’s golden light,

They tested each word against truth’s holy might.

No blind faith for them, no mere echo or guess—

They searched the old writings with diligent press.

More noble than those in Thessalonica’s throng,

Who heard without proving, and wandered along.

O seeker today, let your spirit arise—

Be noble like them: test all claims with clear eyes!

Will you open the Scriptures with zeal every morn,

Examine each teaching till truth is reborn?

Dare to be Berean—make faith a pursuit,

Or drift with the crowd in untested dispute?