Poetry & Songs — Serving My Redeemer

I have found my rest beneath the shelter of His grace, where every broken word is healed and every tear has place. No storm can reach me here, no night can hold its sway — for underneath His wings I dwell, and there I choose to stay.

Come, lay your burdens down upon the altar of His love — He who formed the morning stars still hears you from above. When the road grows long and the night refuses dawn, remember: He who called you here will carry you along.

Not for glory, not for fame, I lift my voice and pen — but to point the searching heart back to the Lord again. For every word I write is His before it becomes mine, and every verse a vessel filled with something more divine.

He leads me to the still waters, where the noise of the world fades away. He restores what the years have taken, and He speaks peace into the fray.

I did not know how heavy love could be until it bore the cross on my behalf. I did not know how wide the mercy sea until I drowned in it and learned to laugh.

Come home, weary traveler, come home — the Father's door is open, you need not roam. Whatever road you've walked, whatever weight you've known, there is a place beside the fire — come home.

She broke the jar and did not count the cost, for what is precious poured at Jesus' feet is never wasted, never truly lost — it rises as an offering, pure and sweet.

Every morning, new mercies fall like dew — His compassions never fail, His faithfulness is true. I rise to meet the day with nothing but His name, and find that it is more than enough to face the flame.