Tag Archives: Poetry

Not Willing That Any Should Perish: A Sonnet on the Longsuffering Mercy of God by Debbie Harris

25 Monday May 2026

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A Shakespearean Sonnet on 2 Peter 3:9

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.

The Lord is not in slackness to His word,

Though scoffers mock the tarrying of the day;

His promise stands, as fixed as heaven’s sword,

Yet mercy bids the rising storm delay.

Longsuffering He bears toward erring men,

Not swift to strike, though justice claims her due;

For in His heart no soul He wills to send

To endless night where perished spirits rue.

He waits, that none should fall to ruin’s flood,

But all should turn and seek the narrow gate;

Repentance calls them from the chains of blood,

To taste the life that sin would desecrate.

O patient God, Thy forbearance is grace—

Repent and flee the coming wrath’s embrace.

May All Humanity Choose Jesus Christ As Their Lord and King by Debbie Harris

23 Saturday May 2026

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

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Romans 1:28 (KJV)

And even as they did not like to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them over to a reprobate mind, to do those things which are not convenient;

Choose Christ whose word is deep,

Whose voice still calls across the storm,

When hearts grow cold and consciences sleep,

And shadows lengthen into form.

The world will offer glittering chains,

Pleasures bright but quickly spent,

Yet His words cut through the haze of pains—

Eternal, sharp, and heaven-sent.

In Romans’ warning, clear and true,

We see what comes when God steps back:

A mind reprobate, without a clue,

Approving darkness, courting black.

But turn—O turn before the door

Swings shut upon the soul’s last plea.

Choose Christ, the Lamb who bled and bore

The wrath we earned on Calvary.

His word is deep as oceans wide,

Yet gentle as a shepherd’s staff;

It pierces, heals, and stands beside

The broken, calling wanderers back.

Choose life, not death disguised as light.

Choose truth, not lies that taste like wine.

Choose Him who rose and conquered night—

The only path where hope will shine.

Let every idol fall and break,

Let every lesser love release.

In Christ alone your soul will wake,

And find the rest that brings true peace.

Before the giving over comes,

Before the mind is sealed in stone—

Choose Christ. His mercy overcomes.

His word is deep. You are not alone

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

19 Tuesday May 2026

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Dear Precious Reader,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

16 Saturday May 2026

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

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Dear Precious Reader,

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

Grace and peace to you!

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


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

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

16 Saturday May 2026

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

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Dear Precious Reader,

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

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

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

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

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

Will The Salt Stay Salty?Not By Clutching Yesterday’s Heat, But By Staying Near The Source That First Made It Sharp Which Is Jeus Chist, Our Lord by Debbie Harris

02 Saturday May 2026

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Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his savour, wherewith shall it be salted? it is thenceforth good for nothing, but to be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men.

Matthew 5:13 (KJV)


You are the salt of the earth, the hidden grace
That seasons sorrow, checks the creeping rot,
Preserves the good where virtue finds no place,
And cuts through dullness with a living edge.
But if that salt grows flat, its fire grown cold,
No skill restores the savor it once gave;
It crumbles useless on the common mold,
Fit only to be scattered on the grave.
O faithful ones, once bright against the night,
What happens when your witness turns to show?
When love grows safe, and truth bends to delight,
And holy fire becomes a hearth’s dull glow?
The world will walk across what it revered
And trample underfoot what should have steered.
Yet even now, a single spark may rise—
A contrite heart, a prayer that will not cease—
To draw the salt from ashes to the skies
And wake the ancient flame of truth and peace.
Will you be remade, restored to burning worth,
Or trampled underfoot as worthless earth?

Revelation 4:11A Victorious Celestial Ode by Debbie Harris

02 Saturday May 2026

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

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Revelation 4:11 (KJV)

You are worthy, our Lord and God,
to receive glory and honor and power,
for you created all things,
and by your will they were created
and have their being.

O radiant Lord, enthroned in blazing light,
Thou art worthy to claim eternal praise!
Glory and honor, majesty and might,
Crown Thee forever through unnumbered days.
Before Thy throne the fourfold creatures cry
“Holy!” in thunderous, triumphant strain;
The elders fall, their golden crowns they fly,
And cast them down in glad, adoring rain.
For by Thy sovereign will the heavens sprang,
Galaxies wheeled in fiery dance unfurled;
The oceans roared, the verdant mountains rang,
And life awoke across a waking world.
Each star that burns, each creature great and small,
The eagle’s soar, the lion’s royal roar,
All sing the anthem of their Maker’s call—
Thou hast created; Thou sustainest all.
Victorious King, whose word alone prevailed
When ancient darkness trembled at Thy voice,
No power of chaos has Thy throne assailed,
For all things serve Thee, and in Thee rejoice.
Hail, worthy One upon the sapphire throne!
Let every realm and every tongue confess:
All glory, honor, power are Thine alone,
Forever worthy, Lord of righteousness!
Amen. Amen.

The Alabaster Box Broken: Her Lavish Sacrifice That Moved and Pleased the Savior by Debbie Harris

26 Sunday Apr 2026

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

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In the hush of Simon’s house in Bethany where lamplight danced and swayed,
the evening air lay thick with roasted lamb and bread’s warm, yeasty breath.
Wine’s dark tang kissed every tongue; low laughter rose and played
while shadows stretched like fingers long across the earthen floor beneath.


She came unbidden, silent as a sigh through candle-glow,
an alabaster box clutched tight—its surface cool and smooth as bone.
Pale as moonlit marble, sealed with promise none could know,
it trembled in her calloused hands, a secret all her own.


Then came the sound—sharp, sudden, like a heart that breaks in two—
the alabaster cracked and split; the crash rang clear and cold.
Out poured the nard, pure spikenard oil from distant eastern lands,
very precious, worth a year’s wages—
in golden streams, thick, glistening, rich as dew—


and oh, the fragrance! Headstrong, rare, and fiercely bold.
It flooded every nostril, heavy spice that clung and curled,
a living perfume storm that drowned the meat-smoke, bread, and wine.
It wrapped the room in velvet heat, a sweetness wild and pearled,


that settled on the skin like oil of love made flesh divine.
She knelt. Her tears fell warm and salt upon His dusty feet;
her raven hair, soft as midnight silk, let loose in one swift flood.
She wiped the costly balm with strands that brushed and kissed and beat,


while oil ran slick between her fingers, warm and thick as blood.
The men recoiled. Their voices sliced the fragrant, trembling air—
“Three hundred pence!” they hissed, like knives dragged sharp across a stone.
“Given to the poor!”—their outrage bitter, raw, and bare,


while all around the perfume sang its sweet, insistent moan.
He turned. His gaze was steady flame that pierced the rising din.
The scent still rose in spirals slow, a prayer made visible.
“Leave her,” He said, voice low and deep as thunder held within,


“She hath done what she could. Let no one trouble her or kill
the beauty of this moment. She has poured her all on Me,
anointed beforehand for My burial, soon to lie within a borrowed tomb.
Wherever this good news is told across the earth and sea,


her deed will live—her broken box, her love that broke the gloom.”
The shards lay scattered, gleaming white against the oil-slick floor.
The fragrance lingered, clung to robes, to hair, to memory’s breath.
We tasted salt and spice and grace; we felt the holy pour


of one who gave her everything, who loved Him unto death.
She hath done what she could.
Her sacrifice—extravagant, selfless, drenched in love—
moved the Savior’s heart and filled it with delight.


He was well-pleased.
And still the fragrance rises.

In Crimson Dawn of Grace: New Hearts, New Minds, and the Triumphant Life of the Redeemed by Debbie Harris

25 Saturday Apr 2026

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

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To my King and High Priest, Jesus Christ — who has made us kings and queens in Your kingdom.

In crimson dawn of grace where shadows flee,
We stand as royally redeemed, set free—
Not slaves to dust, but heirs of heaven’s throne,
New creatures born; the old self buried, gone.
Our hearts, once stone, now pulse with holy fire,
Our souls refreshed by living streams that never tire,
Our minds renewed, illumined by the Word,
We cherish righteousness as heaven’s greatest treasure, long deferred.
O joy unbounded! In the sacred scroll we pore,
On statutes pure as gold, on wisdom’s endless store;
Each precept sings, a melody divine,
And in our spirits leaps the triumph of the Vine.
No weary yoke, but eagle’s wings of might,
We walk His ways through storm and starry night;
In victory’s stride, with banners high unfurled,
We live the law of love that conquers all the world.
For Christ has crowned us kings and queens to reign,
In robes of righteousness, unmarred by sin’s dark stain;
With gladness we obey, with laughter we ascend,
God’s kings and queens—forever crowned, forever blest.

Blessed Is The Nation Whose God Is The Lord (rhymed version) by Debbie Harris

19 Sunday Apr 2026

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An Original Rhymed Epic Poem
(ABAB rhyme scheme, iambic tetrameter)

In realms where earthly kingdoms fall
And fleeting empires turn to dust,
The Sovereign One reigns over all—
Jesus Christ, the faithful, just.

King of kings and Lord of lords,
Whose name is written high above,
He calms the sea with sovereign words
And reigns in everlasting love.

Whose people fix their gaze upon the Son,
Jesus Christ, by heaven adored,
The Chosen One, the Holy One.
In such a land true justice flows,

Like rivers deep and crystal clear;
Mercy touches suffering’s woes,
And truth dispels all doubt and fear.

From dawn of time when stars sang praise
At the Sovereign One’s command,
Jesus Christ in humble ways
Walked dusty roads across the land.

He touched the leper, gave sight to blind,
Called Lazarus forth from death’s cold tomb;
Upon the cross, with love refined,
He bore the nails, endured the gloom.

Blood and water freely flowed
As darkness veiled the noonday sun;
Yet death itself could not hold
The Prince of Life—the victory won.

The stone was rolled, the tomb stood bare,
Nail-scarred hands now intercede;
The Sovereign One ascended there,
Seated where all angels plead.

Its foundations rest upon the Stone,
The Cornerstone once cast aside;
Its leaders seek the throne of grace alone,
Its families walk in love outpoured and wide.

Its youth stand tall like cedars strong,
Its elders rest beneath almighty wings;
Its streets resound with grateful song
Of freedom born where mercy sings.

The Sovereign One extends scarred hands
And gently calls the weary soul:
“Come unto Me, in My command
Find rest that makes the broken whole.”

In answer, chains of sin release,
Freedom blooms in holy light;
The stranger finds a place of peace,
The hungry eat, the naked clothed aright.

When final trumpet shakes the sky
And clouds reveal the King of kings,
With eyes like flame and robe dipped high,
The Sovereign One His glory brings.

The holy city then descends,
Where no more tears or darkness fall;
The river of life forever bends,
And Christ, the Sovereign One, is all.

Let every heart across the land
Give heed to this eternal call:
True greatness lies not in fame or gold,
But humble trust in Christ alone,

That every tribe and tongue may hold
Communion with the Sovereign One.
Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord.