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Let Him Who Boasts Boast in This: That He Understands and Knows the Lord, Who Practices Steadfast Love, Justice, and Righteousness in the Earth by Debbie Harris

30 Sunday Aug 2026

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

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Dear Reader,

This poem was written from Jeremiah 9:24, not as an ornament around the verse, but as an attempt to stand still inside it. The world teaches us to boast in what can be measured: skill, status, strength, cleverness, the harvest we can point to and call our own. Scripture does not deny that such things exist. It only refuses to let them be the last word. The Lord does not delight in our résumé. He delights in steadfast love, justice, and righteousness—and He practices them in the earth, not merely announces them from far away.

If you know Him, even a little, that knowledge is already more than enough to boast in. Not because you arrived at it by brilliance, but because He made Himself known. The poem is only a small echo of that claim.

Read it slowly. Then set it down and return to the verse itself. The poem is a door. The Scripture is the house.

— The Poet

Jeremiah 9:24
But let him who boasts boast in this, that he understands and knows me, that I am the Lord who practices steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth. For in these things I delight, declares the Lord.

Let him not boast in silver’s gleam,
nor in the tower of his name,
nor in the cleverness of schemes
that fade like smoke before the flame.

Let him not boast in strength of arm,
nor in the wisdom of the wise,
nor in the harvest of the farm
that withers when the season dies.

Boast only this: that you have known
the Lord who walks the wounded earth,
whose steadfast love is not a loan
but gift and gravitas and worth.

He practices the just decree,
He rights the wrong, He heals the torn;
He delights in righteousness, and He
is not a God of empty form.

So let the proud man close his mouth
and let the humble lift his song:
the knowledge of the Lord is truth,
and in that knowledge we belong.

How Every Earthly Glory Fades Before His Holy Chord by Debbie Harris

29 Saturday Aug 2026

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

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A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

These lines were born of a single thought: that when the soul at last hears the symphony that is in Jesus Christ our Lord and Saviour, every lesser music grows faint. The world does not vanish; it is simply out-sung.

I have tried to set that moment in the older measure—rhyme and cadence such as our fathers used—so that the ear might linger long enough for the heart to follow. If the verse has any worth, it is only as a small echo of a greater harmony. Read it slowly, if you will, and may the same music find you.

— The Poet

Revelation 5:9

And they sung a new song, saying, Thou art worthy to take the book, and to open the seals thereof: for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation.

Revelation 15:3

And they sing the song of Moses the servant of God, and the song of the Lamb, saying, Great and marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty; just and true are thy ways, thou King of saints.

Colossians 3:16

Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom; teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord.

When first the symphony in Christ is found,

Our Lord and Saviour, source of every tone,

The lesser lights that once so brightly crowned

Grow faint, and every earthly glory’s gone.

The world’s loud clamor, gold and fleeting fame,

The passing joys that once held sovereign sway,

Now dim before the music of His name,

As stars grow pale before the breaking day.

The heart that chased each scattered, broken sound

Finds rest within that vast and holy chord;

And all that once was bright on mortal ground

Fades quietly before the risen Lord.

O Jesus Christ, in whom all things cohere,

In Thee the universe is tuned and clear.

**To God be the glory always and only.

The Glory Is Not Ours to Own: Of Him, Through Him, To Him by Debbie Harris

29 Saturday Aug 2026

Posted by in Celebratory, Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Royally Redeemed, salvation, Thanksgiving

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A note from the poet

Dear reader,

This is not an account of what I made. It is an attempt to tell the truth about what I was given.

Every line that looks like skill was first a mercy: breath, light, a mind that could hold a cadence, a heart that could be taught to see the gift and not the giver last. If the poem works, that is not proof of ownership. The mountain does not lift itself. The song does not write its own hand.

I wrote it as thanksgiving—to the Father who unclasps the morning, to the Spirit who steadies a trembling line, to the Son through whom the empty cup is made enough. Whatever is weak in it is mine. Whatever is true already belonged to Him.

Read it as you would receive bread: not as a display of the baker, but as a share in a feast you did not spread.

If any word here helps you return what you hold, it has done its work.

—the poet

Romans 11:36

For of him, and through him, and to him, are all things: to whom be glory for ever. Amen.

— The last stanza almost speaks this verse aloud: from You, through You, unto You.

1 Corinthians 4:7

For who maketh thee to differ from another? and what hast thou that thou didst not receive? now if thou didst receive it, why dost thou glory, as if thou hadst not received it?

— No vault of skill… can claim the glory that appears.

1 Chronicles 29:14

But who am I, and what is my people, that we should be able to offer so willingly after this sort? for all things come of thee, and of thine own have we given thee.

— We lift the thanksgiving we bring / and find it already given—free.

James 1:17

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.

— The opening movement: light, gift, Father of fountains, Source unspent.

From the first bright syllable of light

that split the deep and named the day,

each breath, each gift, each lifted height

is given, held, and kept Your way.

Father of fountains, Source unspent,

Your hands unclasp the morning gold;

the rivers run at Your consent,

the harvest swells because You hold.

Spirit of fire who broods and burns,

who teaches clay to sing and stand,

You kindle what the heart discerns

and steady every trembling hand.

And You, the Son, the living Word,

the Mercy walking in our dust:

through You the broken world is stirred,

through You the empty cup is just.

All strength that rises when we fall,

all talent flashing from the dark,

all bread that answers hunger’s call

comes streaming from Your wounded mark.

No vault of skill, no hoard of years,

no midnight labor, proud and lone,

can claim the glory that appears—

the glory is not ours to own.

The mountain does not lift itself;

the cedar does not praise its root;

the eagle riding thermal wealth

is borne by what it cannot compute.

So we, who once were barren ground,

now bear the fruit we did not plant;

the song that fills this gathered sound

was written by a hand we cannot grant.

You are the well, the bread, the feast,

the lamp that will not gutter out;

You are the first and final Priest

who turns our scarcity to shout.

When winters lock the field in white

and every talent seems too small,

Your sufficiency becomes our light—

enough, and more than all.

The throne is Yours, the triumph Yours,

the crown that never dims or rusts;

the praise that rolls from distant shores

returns to You because it must.

Father, Spirit, crucified King,

Triune abundance, undivided Three:

we lift the thanksgiving we bring

and find it already given—free.

All that we are, all that we hold,

all that we dare and all we do

is from You, through You, unto You:

Christ Jesus—source, and end, and All.

**To God be the glory always and only.**

There Is Nothing Like the Quiet Comfort of God by Debbie Harris

23 Sunday Aug 2026

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

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A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

If your heart is weighed down by sadness or grief, please know that these words were written with you in mind. In the quiet places of sorrow, there is a comfort deeper than any human comfort—the God of all comfort, who meets us gently through His living Scriptures. May these lines become a small lamp in your darkness, reminding you that you are seen, you are loved, and you are never alone.

With deepest care,

The Poet

2 Corinthians 1:3-4

Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God.

Romans 15:4

For whatsoever things were written aforetime were written for our learning, that we through patience and comfort of the scriptures might have hope.

Psalm 119:50

This is my comfort in my affliction: for thy word hath quickened me.

Psalm 34:18

The LORD is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit.

There is nothing like the quiet comfort found

When burdened hearts draw near the Word of grace,

And in the Scriptures’ calm, without a sound,

Meet God of all comfort face to face.

No storm of doubt can shake the soul that leans

Upon the Father’s mercies, soft and pure;

His holy pages soothe the aching scenes

Where once sadness and grief held their power.

He speaks not only in the wind or fire,

But through the living Book that calms the night;

A refuge sure when all our strengths expire,

A lamp of truth that turns our tears to light.

O God of all comfort, deep as any sea—

In Thee and in Thy Word the heart is free.

**To God be the glory always and only.

When Suffering Comes and Darkness Falls, His Love Will Never Fail Hymn by Debbie Harris

23 Sunday Aug 2026

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

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Dear Reader,

From this quiet poet’s note: I wrote this hymn with this in mind—When suffering comes and darkness falls, His love will never fail—especially in the face of death, prolonged sickness, or the slow, heartbreaking decline of those we love with age. Do not mistake the night for the absence of love. Watching a beloved body weaken, memory fade, or life slip away can feel like the heaviest curtain of all, drawing close over the window of the heart. Yet His love does not flicker with the fading light of health or years. It does not thin when the path grows steep with pain, hospitals, or final goodbyes. It does not fail when the tears come unbidden and the questions about why rise louder than any answer we can hear. Hold this truth the way a traveler holds a small, steady lantern in the deepest valley: the darkness is real, the suffering is real, the watching and the waiting are real—but the love that holds you, and holds those you love, is older than both and stronger than either. You are not walking alone through the sickroom, the quiet decline, or the shadow of death. Even here—especially here—His love will never fail. Rest in that, dear one. The morning is already on its way.

With love and prayers,

The Poet

Stanza 1

When suffering and sorrows come

Like storms that veil the light,

When burdens crush the trembling heart

And day gives way to night,

Lift up your eyes to heaven’s throne—

The Lord remains the same.

Refrain

He holds you in His sovereign hand

Through every grief and pain;

His steadfast love will never fail

Till morning breaks again.

Stanza 2

The tears that fall in secret hours,

The sighs too deep for words,

Are treasured by the God of grace

Who knows each unspoken chord.

He bears the weight you cannot lift

And walks the shadowed way.

Refrain

He holds you in His sovereign hand

Through every grief and pain;

His steadfast love will never fail

Till morning breaks again.

Stanza 3

Recall the Christ, the Man of grief,

Who bore the cross alone;

He drank the cup of human woe

To make you fully known.

His wounds still speak of endless grace

That meets you in the dark.

Refrain

He holds you in His sovereign hand

Through every grief and pain;

His steadfast love will never fail

Till morning breaks again.

Stanza 4

Though trials rise by His design

To purify the soul,

He wastes no tear, forsakes no child,

But makes the broken whole.

The furnace of affliction yields

A faith more pure than gold.

Refrain

He holds you in His sovereign hand

Through every grief and pain;

His steadfast love will never fail

Till morning breaks again.

Stanza 5

When sickness claims the ones we love

And death stands at the door,

When hearts are torn by helpless watch

And sorrow wounds the core,

Remember Jesus wept at tombs

And shares the tears we pour.

Refrain

He holds you in His sovereign hand

Through every grief and pain;

His steadfast love will never fail

Till morning breaks again.

Stanza 6

When friends grow distant, strength grows thin,

And hope begins to fade,

The Spirit intercedes within

With groans that cannot be stayed.

He lifts the fainting spirit high

And whispers, “I am near.”

Refrain

He holds you in His sovereign hand

Through every grief and pain;

His steadfast love will never fail

Till morning breaks again.

Stanza 7

The night is long, yet dawn will break

Across the eastern skies;

No sorrow lasts beyond His will,

No pain escapes His eyes.

He turns the mourning into song

And wipes away all tears.

Refrain

He holds you in His sovereign hand

Through every grief and pain;

His steadfast love will never fail

Till morning breaks again.

Stanza 8

So rest, O soul, in boundless love

That never shifts its course;

The One who planned the darkest hour

Will bring the brightest source.

Until we stand on heaven’s shore

Where sorrows are no more.

Refrain

He holds you in His sovereign hand

Through every grief and pain;

His steadfast love will never fail

Till morning breaks again.

**To God be the glory always and only!

You Are Held By Debbie Harris

22 Saturday Aug 2026

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

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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!

Faith, Hope, And Love by Debbie Harris

22 Saturday Aug 2026

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

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Dear Reader,

Here are two versions of the same poem — one in free verse, one in rhyme.

They both speak of the three things that remain when everything else falls away: Faith, Hope, and Love.

I wrote them as two different doors into the same quiet room.

Step through whichever one feels most open to you.

Or walk through both.

May these words meet you gently,

and may something in them stay with you

long after the page is closed.

— the poet

Free verse version

In the quiet cathedral of the heart

where the soul kneels in silence,

Faith stands—

a pillar of pure, living light,

stronger than diamond,

impossible to break.

It is the white root that drinks the darkness

and blossoms into a star.

No storm can shake it;

no night can put it out.

Faith is the still center

around which the broken world turns—

one clear, unwavering note

that keeps sounding

beneath every crashing hour.

Hope arrives like the first silver crack

in the black cloth of night—

a pale, stubborn petal

opening against a hard sky.

It is the green shoot

that splits stone with soft, relentless force,

the long flight of wild geese

sewing bright threads across a torn sky.

Hope tastes like rain on dry earth,

smells like crushed flowers and far-off fire.

It gathers the broken pieces of yesterday

and breathes them into a path of trembling dawn.

And Love—

Love is the final great flood,

the scarlet tide that covers every shore.

It is incense melting into flame,

the slow, beautiful drowning

that suddenly becomes flight.

Love pours itself out completely—

soft crimson velvet over bone and breath,

the ocean that kisses the farthest cliff

and never asks the cliff to answer.

It is the last language of dying stars,

the sudden recognition that leaps

between two lonely hearts

across the glittering dark.

These three remain,

woven into one shining whole:

Faith the golden thread that never frays,

Hope the silver thread that never ends,

Love the living color that soaks everything

until every part of the world—

seen and unseen—

burns with the same unbearable beauty.

Rhymed version

In the quiet cathedral of the heart

the soul kneels down in silence deep;

Faith stands—a pillar of pure light,

stronger than diamond, sure and steep.

The white root drinks the dark of night

and blossoms into star so bright.

No storm can shake its steady throne;

no night can claim it for its own—

one clear, unwavering, living tone

beneath the hours that crash and moan.

Hope comes, a silver crack of day

torn through the black cloth of the night,

a pale, stubborn petal that will stay

and open to the hardest light.

Green shoot that splits the stone apart

with soft, relentless, growing art;

wild geese that sew the torn sky through

with threads of gold and silver-blue.

It tastes of rain on earth long dry,

of crushed sweet flowers and fire nearby,

and gathers pieces broken, sere,

to breathe a trembling dawn appear.

And Love—the final scarlet tide

that covers every waiting shore;

incense that melts in flame and glides,

the drowning that becomes pure soar.

It pours itself out, nothing kept—

crimson velvet where bone has slept,

the ocean kissing farthest stone

and asking nothing back, alone.

Last language of the dying stars,

the leap across the glittering bars

where two lone hearts at last are known

within the dark that is their own.

These three remain, one shining whole:

Faith the gold thread that holds the soul,

Hope the silver that will not cease,

Love the color that brings release

until the seen and unseen burn

with beauty none can ever unlearn.

To God be the glory always and only.**

In Christ Our All — Exquisite Provision and Victorious Hope by Debbie Harris

19 Wednesday Aug 2026

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Praise, Royally Redeemed, salvation

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A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

These lines rose like dawn light warming a waiting tongue, born from the radiant declaration of Lamentations 3:24 — that the Lord is our portion. In every season, through every shifting wind and shadowed path, Christ is our everything: the sweet honey that surges through the pulse, the fragrant spice of unshakable hope, the thunderous voice that rolls across the open sky, our exquisite and inexhaustible provision.

May this sonnet pour golden radiance into your lifted eyes, set dancing feet upon paths of living light, and carry the triumphant, majestic joy that such a truth awakens.

With hope that soars,

The Poet

Note on Form

This poem is a Shakespearean sonnet: fourteen lines of iambic pentameter with the classic rhyme scheme ABAB CDCD EFEF GG.

Lamentations 3:24

“The Lord is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him.”

In radiant dawn that warms the waiting tongue

And fills the air with sweet and living breath,

The soul announces triumph, freely sung:

The Lord alone is everything—true life past death!

It drinks the sweetness mercy pours like dew

And tastes the joy that sweeps away all pain;

It breathes the spice of hope the victors knew

And hears a voice that rolls like thunder’s reign.

Now dancing feet explore the paths of light;

A golden glow floods every lifted eye;

Warm honey surges through each pulsing beat

While winds of promise perfume the open sky.

So soul and sense rise up in pure delight—

In Christ our all—exquisite, triumphant light!

To God be the glory always and only.

The Breaker Is Come Up Before Them: A Hymn of Finished Victory by Debbie Harris

18 Tuesday Aug 2026

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

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Dear Reader,

From the Poet’s Note

I wrote these lines after sitting with C. H. Spurgeon’s meditation on Micah 2:13—“The breaker is come up before them.” His words stirred something deep: the quiet courage that comes when we remember Christ has already walked the road ahead of us, broken every barrier, and left the enemy defeated. This poem is not an attempt to improve upon Spurgeon, only to echo his trumpet call in a different key. May it steady your steps if the way feels dark, and remind you that the hardest fighting has already been done by Another.

With hope,
The Poet

To God be the glory—always and only.

Micah 2:13
The breaker is come up before them: they have broken up, and have passed through the gate, and are gone out by it: and their king shall pass before them, and the LORD on the head of them.

Colossians 2:14-15
Blotting out the handwriting of ordinances that was against us, which was contrary to us, and took it out of the way, nailing it to his cross; And having spoiled principalities and powers, he made a shew of them openly, triumphing over them in it.1 Corinthians 15:54-57
So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. 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.

Hebrews 2:14-15
Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, he also himself likewise took part of the same; that through death he might destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the devil; And deliver them who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage.

Psalm 91:13
Thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder: the young lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under feet.

Isaiah 43:2
When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.

Romans 8:37
Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us.


The Breaker has gone up before,
Through gate and gloom and iron door;
He marched the road we tremble on,
And every foe is overthrown.

Sin’s heavy chain He nailed to wood,
Death’s sting He swallowed in His blood;
Hell’s yawning gulf He barred with might—
No child of His shall taste that night.

The lions roar, but teeth are gone;
The serpents strike, their fangs withdrawn;
The rivers rage, yet bridges stand;
The flames may leap—we walk unscathed,
Clad in the garment He has made.

The sword was forged, the spear was keen,
Yet both lie blunted, cold, unseen;
The war is won before we fight,
The darkness yields before the Light.

So faint-heart, lift your weary head,
The path is cleared, the vict’ry said;
March on, divide the richest spoil—
Your Captain triumphed, end of toil.

Proclaim aloud the Breaker’s name,
Who broke the powers of death and shame;
Sweet name that fits Him, strong and true—
He broke the way, and leads us through.

Lord, Is There Still a Path for America? by Debbie Harris

18 Tuesday Aug 2026

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

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A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

This poem was written with a heavy heart and a hopeful spirit for the land we still call home. In an age when corruption seems to run deep, and the foundations tremble, these lines are offered as both a cry and a call: that America would turn, repent, and return to the one true God. May these words stir something eternal within you.

With prayer and longing,
The Poet

To God be the glory—always and only.

Psalm 33:12
Blessed is the nation whose God is the LORD; and the people whom he hath chosen for his own inheritance.2 Chronicles 7:14
If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.

Psalm 11:3
If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do?

Proverbs 14:34
Righteousness exalteth a nation: but sin is a reproach to any people.

Jeremiah 18:7-8
At what instant I shall speak concerning a nation, and concerning a kingdom, to pluck up, and to pull down, and to destroy it; If that nation, against whom I have pronounced, turn from their evil, I will repent of the evil that I thought to do unto them.

Hosea 14:1
O Israel, return unto the LORD thy God; for thou hast fallen by thine iniquity.

Psalm 85:6
Wilt thou not revive us again: that thy people may rejoice in thee?

Isaiah 55:7
Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and let him return unto the LORD, and he will have mercy upon him; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.

Corruption sinks its roots through every vein
Of this once-hallowed land we still call home;
Its shadow stretches far across the plain,
While justice falters and the truth is sold for gain.
In midnight’s hush we lift a trembling plea:
“Lord, is there still a path for America?”

Yes—there is.
Repent, America.
Turn from the glittering idols raised on high,
From silver thrones and souls that gold has bought;
Return unto the One, the only God Most High,
Whose mercy waits where prodigal hearts are sought.

The foundations are destroyed—what can the righteous do?
The temple’s pillars lean, the stones begin to crack,
Yet still the Voice that spoke when worlds began
Resounds through tempest, moral night, and lack:
“Come home, My people—there remains a way for all.”
Cast down the pride that sealed the hardened heart;
Confess the wounds where darkness claimed its part.

Repent, America—bow low and true;
Seek first the Kingdom that remakes the whole.
Not by the sword, nor wealth, nor arm of might,
But by the broken spirit washed and made pure light.
The God who once poured blessing from above
Still holds forgiveness, still extends His love.

Rise, then, from ashes, America—arise;
Lift eyes from dust toward the ancient skies.
Return unto the Father who has never left,
Whose covenant endures when all else is bereft.

Though corruption runs deep, His mercy runs deeper still;
Repent—and the way stands open by His will.
He is the everlasting King on high,
Full of mercy, love, and truth that never die;
And if judgment must fall upon the land,
Repent, America—His open arms still extend.

America, America,
May God again shed His grace on thee;
Restore what we have lost through pride,
And set this nation free—
If we will turn, repent, and bow the knee.