Tag Archives: Royally Redeemed

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.

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!

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.

The Presence of God Is a Royal Symphony by Debbie Harris

19 Wednesday Aug 2026

Posted by in Celebratory, Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Jesus Christ, King of Kings, Praise, Royally Redeemed, Thanksgiving, The Light Of The World

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Dear Reader,

From the Poet—

These lines were born in quiet hours when the soul, thirsty and still, first heard the distant strains of a music not of this world. I have tried, with imperfect human words, to capture something of that royal symphony—the life-giving presence of God that does not merely visit, but resurrects; that does not merely comfort, but creates anew. May these verses serve as an open door rather than a finished chamber. Step through them gently. Listen not only with the ear, but with the heart. For the true symphony is not confined to ink and rhyme; it plays wherever His presence is welcomed, and it never ceases to give life. If even one note awakens in you a deeper hunger for that living Presence, then these pages have fulfilled their quiet purpose.

With reverence,


The Poet

In courts of light where death itself must flee,
A royal symphony begins to play;
The life-giving presence of the King Most Free
Awakens dust and turns the night to day.

Soft strings of mercy breathe upon the soul,
Like morning mist that kisses barren ground;
Each gentle note restores what time has stole,
And lifeless hearts leap up with living sound.

The brass of power proclaims a quickening word—
Dry bones arise, the withered bloom again;
While flutes of grace, like living waters heard,
Pour endless streams through every desert plain.

Celestial choirs swell in radiant throng,
Their harmonies a river pure and wide;
The presence of the Lord, so vast, so strong,
Floods every vein with life that will abide.

The harp of healing plucks the wounded deep,
Where sorrow’s thorns once choked the tender vine;
Its golden chords make broken spirits leap,
And every scar is bathed in light divine.

The drums of glory roll across the earth,
Awaking forests, seas, and silent stone;
Creation hears the music of new birth
And answers back in voices not its own.

The organ of eternity now speaks—
Vast pipes of wonder thundering above;
It lifts the lowly, strengthens all the weak,
And fills the void with everlasting love.

No measure ends, no final cadence falls;
The symphony of God forever streams.
His life-giving presence through the ages calls,
And every soul that listens lives and dreams.

O come, and lean into this royal song—
Let every breath be tuned to heaven’s fire;
For in His presence life is ever strong,
And death itself becomes a silenced lyre.

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.

Seared Hearts and Sleeping Souls: The Quiet Tragedy of Our Desensitization by Debbie Harris

18 Tuesday Aug 2026

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Jesus Christ, King of Kings, Luke warm, Spiritual Warfare, Taking A Stand Against Evil, The curse of being luke warm

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Dear Reader,

I wrote these lines not as one who claims any moral superiority, but as one who, by God’s sheer and undeserved grace, has been kept from the full weight of that slow dulling of the soul the poem describes. I have not felt the same progressive numbness that has settled over so much of our culture—yet I know it is only grace that has preserved me, not any strength of my own. The same heart that beats in me is capable of the same hardness; apart from the continual mercy of God, I too would drift. Biblical theology is clear on this danger. From the beginning, sin is not merely a mistake; it is a turning away from the God who is life itself:

For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.
— Romans 3:23 (KJV)

The apostle Paul warns of those whose consciences are seared:

“Speaking lies in hypocrisy; having their conscience seared with a hot iron.”
— 1 Timothy 4:2 (KJV)

and of minds that become darkened:

“Having the understanding darkened, being alienated from the life of God through the ignorance that is in them, because of the blindness of their heart: Who being past feeling have given themselves over unto lasciviousness, to work all uncleanness with greediness.”
— Ephesians 4:18–19 (KJV)

Isaiah cried out against a people who reversed moral truth:

“Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!”
— Isaiah 5:20 (KJV)

Jesus Himself wept over Jerusalem:

And when he was come near, he beheld the city, and wept over it, Saying, If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace! but now they are hid from thine eyes. For the days shall come upon thee, that thine enemies shall cast a trench about thee, and compass thee round, and keep thee in on every side, And shall lay thee even with the ground, and thy children within thee; and they shall not leave in thee one stone upon another; because thou knewest not the time of thy visitation.
— Luke 19:41–44 (KJV)

The danger is real and eternal:

For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.
— Romans 6:23 (KJV)

Yet the same Scriptures that expose our peril also hold out mercy. God takes no pleasure in the death of the wicked:

Have I any pleasure at all that the wicked should die? saith the Lord GOD: and not that he should return from his ways, and live?
— Ezekiel 18:23 (KJV)

Christ came not to condemn the world:

For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved.
— John 3:17 (KJV)

The poem is therefore not a final word of despair, but a quiet alarm—an invitation to awaken, to name what is broken, and to return to the One who still calls, “Come to Me.”If these lines disturb you, let them. If they awaken even a small hunger for holiness, give thanks. The Spirit still convicts, still softens, still restores. And if, like me, you have been spared thus far, then join me in trembling gratitude—knowing that every day of spiritual sensitivity is pure gift.

To God be the glory—always and only.

The Poet

In the glare of endless screens,
sin slips soft as silk,
no longer a wound that bleeds,
but a background hum we barely hear.

We scroll past the sacred
and call the hollow holy,
trade the weight of conscience
for the lightness of “whatever feels right.”
The old names—lust, pride, greed, envy—
have been rebranded into lifestyle,
identity, self-care,
until the soul forgets it ever had a pulse.

How tragic:
hearts once made for fire
now settle for the flicker of a notification.
Children learn the language of appetite
before they learn the language of awe.
Mercy is mocked as weakness,
repentance as shame,
and the quiet voice that once said “Stop”
is drowned by a chorus of “You do you.”

How dangerous for souls:
for what we no longer call sin
still devours in the dark.
It hollows the eyes,
frays the bonds between us,
and leaves us wandering
in a fog of our own making—
convinced we are free
while the chains grow tighter
around the part of us that was meant to fly.

We have become a culture
that laughs at the cliff edge,
calls the fall “progress,”
and wonders why so many
feel the wind but never the landing.

Wake, if you can still hear.
The tragedy is not only that we sin—
but that we have forgotten
how to weep for it.

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.