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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.**

I Am Nothing Without Jesus by Debbie Harris

22 Saturday Aug 2026

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

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Dear Reader,

These lines were written from a quiet place of wonder — a simple heart overflowing with the beauty and nearness of Jesus. May they gently remind you, as they remind me, that every good and perfect gift flows from Him alone.

With love,

the poet

I am nothing without Jesus—

an empty cup of purest gold,

waiting until His love comes pouring,

overflowing, warm and manifold.

Without His smile the morning pales,

without His voice the song grows thin;

yet one soft word from His kind heart

turns every dusk to golden dawn within.

I am the branch the living Vine now holds,

leafed in emerald, kissed by summer rain;

His life runs sweet through every vein

and makes the barren places bloom again.

I am the child held close and safe

beneath His everlasting wing;

He walks beside me step by step,

with open arms where endless joys take wing.

I am the heart now soaring free,

beloved, radiant, fully known;

He robes me in His brightest grace

and sings His victory as my own.

So take my fears, my restless plans,

my striving that could never win;

I lay them down with happy hands—

for only in Him does life begin.

I am nothing without Jesus…

and everything because of Him.

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

Oh The Unsearchable Riches Of Christ That None Can Trace by Debbie Harris

22 Saturday Aug 2026

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

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Dear Reader,

These lines were written in quiet meditation upon the unsearchable riches of Christ, drawn from the apostle’s words in Ephesians and the sweet, heart-stirring reflections of Charles Spurgeon. May they turn your heart upward, deepen your wonder at the Saviour’s boundless grace, and leave you hungering to know Him more. Read them slowly, and let the Spirit apply their truth. Amen.

May the unsearchable riches of Christ be ever more precious to every heart that reads these lines.

— The Poet

Job 5:9 – Which doeth great things and unsearchable; marvellous things without number.

Job 9:10 – Which doeth great things past finding out; yea, and wonders without number.

Romans 11:33 – Oh, the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!

Psalm 145:3 – Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised; and his greatness is unsearchable.

Isaiah 40:28 – Hast thou not known? hast thou not heard, that the everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither is weary? there is no searching of his understanding.

Beyond arithmetic’s frail and fading count,

Beyond the measuring rod of reason’s mount,

Beyond imagination’s farthest dream,

Beyond the brightest ray of eloquence’s gleam—

Lie treasures deeper than the seeking mind,

Unsearchable, in Christ alone enshrined.

My Master stands more vast than highest thought,

Though thought to heaven’s utmost summit wrought;

More swift to pardon than the faltering soul

Is swift to stumble toward the darkling goal;

More mighty still to cleanse, to loose, to free

Than sin can bind or shadow over me.

He waits more eager, open-handed, near

Than I am slow to kneel and make appear

My hidden hunger, whispered want, and need.

O never crown Him with a brittle reed

Or silver pale—He claims the living gold

That burns with glories yet untold.

He spreads for me the living emerald green

Where quiet waters run in silver sheen;

His shepherd-pipe pours forth such melodies

As hush the heart like evening’s breathing seas.

No love that earth has known, nor heaven shows,

Can match the fathomless depth His mercy knows.

To know Him, and in Him forever abide—

This is the life the long, long ages hide,

The marrow of the everlasting feast,

The wine well-refined, the sacred vintage pressed.

He gives as kings to kings their gifts impart,

With open hand and large, unstinting heart.

Two heavens His lavish, royal grace prepares:

One here below, where love itself declares

Its quiet joy in serving day by day;

One there above, where every shadow stays

Forever banished in the purest light

Of His unveiled, beloved, glorious sight.

Along the pilgrim road He builds my wall

Of living rock, and answers every call

With bread that never fails, with waters sure;

Yet there—O there—the purified, the pure

Shall hear the triumph’s everlasting song,

The feast of those who waited, true and long.

These riches are the earth’s most sacred tune,

The harpers’ anthem under sun and moon,

The stars that hymn Him through the night and day.

Lord, teach us more of Jesus’ radiant way,

That we, with tongues of fire and living grace,

May tell His boundless wealth from place to place.

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.

Sonnet on Psalm 1 by Debbie Harris

18 Tuesday Aug 2026

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

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Dear Reader,

In a world thick with darkness—where the loudest voices counsel compromise, the crowd rewards the cynic, and the broad road leads only to loss—Psalm 1 still issues its quiet, counter-cultural call. It echoes the same truth spoken by the prophets and fulfilled in Christ: that those who delight in the Lord’s instruction, meditating on it day and night, become like trees planted by streams of living water, bearing fruit in season while the chaff is driven away. This is not a summons to withdraw from the world, but to live as light within it—rooted in the Word, sustained by the One who knows the way of the righteous, and unmoved by the wind that scatters everything else. May these lines draw you back to the only stream that never runs dry.

— The Poet

Psalm 1 (Amplified)

Blessed—happy, fortunate, prosperous, and enviable—is the person who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked [following their advice and example],

nor stand in the path of sinners,

nor sit down to rest in the seat of scoffers and mockers.

But his complete delight and desire are in the law of the Lord,

and on His law (the precepts, the instructions, the teachings of God) he habitually meditates (ponders and studies) by day and by night.

And he shall be like a tree firmly planted [and fed] by streams of water,

which yields its fruit in its season;

its leaf does not wither;

and in whatever he does, he prospers [and comes to maturity].

Not so the wicked [those who live in rebellion against God].

They are like chaff [worthless, dead, without substance] which the wind drives away.

Therefore the wicked will not stand [and be justified] in the judgment,

nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous [those who are upright and in right standing with God].

For the Lord knows and fully approves the way of the righteous,

but the way of the wicked will perish [and come to destruction].

Sonnet

Blessed is the one who will not walk the road

Where wicked counsel leads the heart astray,

Nor stand with sinners in their dark abode,

Nor sit with scoffers in their idle play.

Instead, the law of God becomes delight,

A quiet fire that burns both day and night;

Like trees beside a river, deep and bright,

Whose leaves stay green and fruit arrives in light.

In every season such a life will thrive,

While all it touches prospers and grows strong.

The wicked are not so—mere chaff they live,

Scattered by wind and gone before too long.

The Lord sustains the path the righteous keep;

The way of sinners ends in dust and sleep.

From Shadowed Vales to Radiant Peaks: The Royal Ascent of Those Redeemed by the Lamb by Debbie Harris

17 Monday Aug 2026

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

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A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

These lines were born in the quiet hours when the heart remembers that the Christian life is no flat path, but a living mountain range—valleys fragrant with rain and wildflowers, steep climbs that burn the legs and refine the soul, and summits where the air itself seems to sing of glory.

I have tried to paint what the eyes see and the lungs breathe along the way: the silver mist, the crushed thyme underfoot, the diamond flash of waterfalls, the clean scent of snow and cedar. And above all, I have tried to honor the Triune Companion who never leaves the trail—rescuing, transforming, coaching, cheering, correcting, and disciplining with a love that is both fierce and tender.

May these words find you wherever you are on the ascent. May they remind you that you are already royally redeemed, already crowned, and that every step—whether through shadowed vale or blazing height—is leading you, at last, into His holy presence bright.

With quiet joy and shared hope,

The Poet

Psalm 23:4

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”

Habakkuk 3:19

“The LORD God is my strength, and he will make my feet like hinds’ feet, and he will make me to walk upon mine high places.”

Hebrews 12:5–6, 11

“My son, despise not thou the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of him: For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. … Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous: nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are exercised thereby.”

1 Peter 2:9

“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.”

Revelation 1:5–6

“Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, And hath made us kings and priests unto God and his Father; to him be glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen.”

Following Jesus is ascending a vast mountain range,

A kingdom trail of wonder, trial, and grace’s change—

Where emerald valleys unfurl beneath silvered skies,

Rain-kissed meadows glisten like jewels before the eyes.

Behold the soft mist rising from the dew-drenched floor,

Wildflowers cascading in violet, gold, and crimson lore;

Their petals open wide to drink the morning’s light,

While fragrant hyacinth and mountain lily take flight

Upon the breeze—sweet nectar, earth after the rain,

Petrichor rising rich, a perfume that soothes all pain.

Down in those sheltered vales where shadows gently fall,

Beauty hides in mossy stones and ferns that softly call;

The air hangs heavy with the scent of pine and blooming thyme,

A holy hush where tears become the soil for growth sublime.

Here the heart is refined beneath the canopy of green,

As distant peaks gleam white against a sapphire sheen.

Then the upward climbs begin—the rocky, winding way,

Where lungs burn deep and muscles ache beneath the day;

Yet every step reveals new vistas painted bold and bright:

Cascading waterfalls that flash like diamonds in the light,

Alpine meadows blanketed in star-like edelweiss,

Their crisp, clean fragrance mingling with the snow’s pure ice.

At last the mountain tops—oh, exquisite, breath-held views!

Endless ridges rolling blue, kissed by the sun’s soft hues;

Clouds drift below like woolen seas, while eagles wheel and cry,

And heaven’s glory spills in gold across the endless sky.

The wind carries the scent of distant cedar, wild and free,

A heady incense rising toward eternity.

And there—always there—our Triune God abides:

Father’s mighty arm that rescues when the footing slides,

Spirit’s gentle breath that transforms the weary soul,

Son who walks beside, coaching every upward goal.

He cheers with tender joy when courage starts to rise,

Corrects with loving firmness when pride would compromise,

Disciplines as a King who shapes His royal heirs,

Turning every stumble into deeper, richer prayers.

Oh, what a sacred adventure for the royally redeemed!

Crowned in blood-bought mercy, by the Lamb forever claimed.

Through fragrant valleys low and summits piercing high,

Through rain-scented sorrow and vistas that stun the eye,

We follow our Savior, heart and senses filled with praise,

Climbing, redeemed and crowned, into His holy presence bright.

The Risen King’s Mercy by Debbie Harris

17 Monday Aug 2026

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

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A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

These lines were written not to impress the mind, but to stir the heart toward the risen Christ—the One in whom “mercy and truth are met together” (Psalm 85:10), and through whose blood we have “obtained mercy” (1 Peter 2:10).

All true mercy flows from Him alone. It was purchased at the Cross where He bore our sins in His own body (1 Peter 2:24), sealed by the empty tomb that declared Him “the firstfruits of them that slept” (1 Corinthians 15:20), and forever secured by His throne, where the Lamb once slain now lives and reigns forever (Revelation 5:6, 12).

Like the green olive tree of Psalm 52:8, the believer stands rooted in the house of God only because of this unfailing mercy. May every verse point you beyond the poem to the Victor Himself—the One who “led captivity captive” (Ephesians 4:8) and has given us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ (1 Corinthians 15:57).

If these words cause you to lift your eyes to the Lamb and rest more fully in His finished work, then they have fulfilled their only purpose.

Soli Deo Gloria.

Behold the mercy centered in the Cross,

Where Christ the Victor bled and overcame!

Tender His wounds that heal our every loss,

Yet thunderous the triumph of His name.

Great is this mercy—boundless as the throne

Where Jesus reigns, the Lamb once slain now crowned;

It crushes sin, breaks every iron stone,

And lifts the rebel where His glory’s found.

Undeserved it floods from Calvary’s height—

No merit ours, yet Christ has paid the whole;

The wrath we earned was swallowed in His fight,

And justice satisfied now crowns the soul.

Rich is the mercy flowing from His side:

A fountain opened, crimson, pure, and free;

It turns our ashes into royal pride,

And clothes the beggar in His victory.

Manifold it rises from the empty tomb—

One death, one rising, yet a thousand gains:

Forgiveness, life, adoption, endless bloom,

All clustered in the Conqueror who reigns.

Abounding still—though hell itself assail,

This mercy marches on, unspent, unbowed;

Millions are raised, yet never does it fail,

For Christ has triumphed, and the grave is cowed.

Unfailing stands the risen, reigning King:

In every battle He has gone before;

Temptation flees, and death has lost its sting—

We conquer now, and shall forevermore.

So shout, O soul, the mercy of the Lamb!

The olive tree stands green in endless light;

Through Christ alone we claim the great “I AM,”

And ride with Him in everlasting might.

Ceaseless, Majestic Hope by Debbie Harris

16 Sunday Aug 2026

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

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A note to the reader from the poet

Dear friend,

I have sat with this truth for a long time now, turning it over in my hands like a smooth stone: the hope we have in Jesus Christ is inexhaustible. It does not dwindle with the years. It does not thin when the night grows long. It simply keeps giving. Look at Him. On His robe and on His thigh He has this name written: KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS. The powers of this world will gather and rage. They will wage war against the Lamb. But the Lamb will triumph over them because He is Lord of lords and King of kings—and with Him will be His called, chosen and faithful followers. That includes you. That includes me. In His own time — not ours —God will bring about the day when the blessed and only Ruler appears: God Himself, the King of kings and Lord of lords. So I keep returning to this praise, as if I have just discovered it for the first time: Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In His great mercy He has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. This is not a fragile wish. We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It has already entered the inner sanctuary behind the curtain where nothing can touch it, nothing can steal it, nothing can wear it out. And still the mystery deepens: To them God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory. Christ in you. Not beside you. Not merely for you. In you —the hope of glory that can never be exhausted. So rest here a while, friend. Let this hope hold you. It has no end.

— the poet

Revelation 19:16

On his robe and on his thigh he has this name written: KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS.

Revelation 17:14

They will wage war against the Lamb, but the Lamb will triumph over them because he is Lord of lords and King of kings—and with him will be his called, chosen and faithful followers.

1 Timothy 6:15

which God will bring about in his own time—God, the blessed and only Ruler, the King of kings and Lord of lords.

1 Peter 1:3

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.

Hebrews 6:19

We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain.

Everything about

Colossians 1:27

To them God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.

Everything about Jesus Christ,

King of Kings and Lord of Lords,

Gives us majestic, ceaseless hope

That never fails, but ever soars.

His holy birth in humble stall,

The Word made flesh among the low,

Foretold by prophets long ago—

Isaiah’s Child, Emmanuel’s call—

Now shines where darkest shadows fall.

With every word of truth He spoke,

And miracles of healing power,

He stilled the storm and raised the dead,

And walked with grace through every hour.

Upon the cross His love was shown,

The Lamb who bore the weight of sin;

In dying, death itself He broke,

Disarmed the powers, triumphed then

(Colossians’ cry of victory won).

Then from the tomb He rose in light,

The grave could not contain His might;

Ascended high to reign above,

Yet present still in boundless love.

This hope, unlike the fleeting kind

That earthly treasures may bestow,

Is rooted in the eternal King

Whose promises forever flow.

When storms of sorrow crash and break,

And shadows lengthen through the night,

This ceaseless hope still holds its ground—

A fixed and ever-burning light.

No time can dim its radiant flame,

No trial quench its steady fire;

For Jesus lives, the risen Lord,

And lifts our longing ever higher.

Behold the Rider on the white horse,

Faithful and True, with eyes of flame;

A sharp sword issues from His mouth,

He judges, conquers in His name.

On His robe and on His thigh

The title written, clear and bold:

“King of Kings and Lord of Lords”—

The Alpha, Omega, from of old.

He tramples out the winepress fierce

Of wrath against the rebel throng;

Yet for His own, the blood-bought flock,

He sings the everlasting song.

Through every age and every land,

Where faith has fixed its trusting gaze,

This hope has sung its deathless song

Of mercy, power, and endless praise.

It whispers peace in deepest pain,

It strengthens hands that tremble weak;

It points beyond the fleeting hour

To joys no mortal tongue can speak—

The New Jerusalem descending,

Where God Himself shall wipe all tears,

And death shall die, and night shall flee

Before the Lamb through endless years.

Ceaseless it flows, a river pure,

From throne of grace that never ends;

In Christ our Anchor, sure and strong,

This hope through every trial transcends.

Victorious, majestic, sovereign King,

Whose complex plan from ages past

Unites the cross, the empty tomb,

The final triumph that shall last.

King of Kings and Lord of Lords,

His reign shall never know an end;

Thus hope in Him remains unceasing,

Our constant joy, our faithful Friend.