The Lowly Heart Shall Rise

A Poem Inspired by James 4:10

Bow low, O heart, before the throne

Where heaven’s holy light is known;

Lay down the crown that pride would wear,

And meet thy gracious Savior there.

For dust remembers whence it came,

Yet God can breathe upon the same;

The soul that kneels beneath His hand

Shall rise according to His command.

Let earthly honors fade away,

Like morning mist before the day;

Let every boast and vain desire

Be yielded to the cleansing fire.

The mountain high may catch the sun,

Yet through the valleys rivers run;

And grace, like water pure and deep,

Flows where the humble vigil keep.

No trumpet sounds where mercy grows,

No proud procession comes or goes;

But in the silence of the soul,

The hand of God can make us whole.

To humble self is not defeat,

But finding strength at Jesus’ feet;

For those who cease themselves to raise

Are lifted by the Lord of grace.

The world may teach the heart to climb,

To seek its glory for a time;

But heaven speaks a different word:

“Bow down before your sovereign Lord.”

For Christ Himself the pathway trod,

In perfect meekness before God;

He bore the cross, endured the shame,

And heaven exalted Jesus’ name.

So let the restless striving cease;

Come kneel within the courts of peace.

Release the need to stand above,

And rest beneath Almighty Love.

When pride would whisper, “Make thy name,”

Remember Christ and seek His fame;

When self would struggle to be seen,

Choose instead the path serene.

For God beholds the contrite heart,

The soul that seeks the better part;

He does not scorn the bowed-down face,

But meets the humble one with grace.

There is a height no pride can gain,

A joy untouched by earthly reign;

A crown that human hands cannot give,

A higher life the meek shall live.

And when the appointed hour is come,

When earthly praise and pride are done,

The hand beneath which saints have bowed

Shall lift them from the restless crowd.

Not by the strength of human will,

Nor climbing some ambitious hill,

But by the Lord whose faithful hand

Can raise the lowly where they stand.

Then humble thyself beneath His sight,

And trust the wisdom of His might;

For those who kneel before the Lord

Shall rise according to His Word.

O blessed path of holy grace,

That leads the soul to heaven’s embrace:

We stoop beneath His sovereign hand,

And by His mercy rise and stand.

So bow, O heart, and do not fear;

The Lord of glory draweth near.

The lowest place before His eyes

Becomes the ground from which we rise.

For pride shall fade like evening flame,

But grace forever shall proclaim:

The heart that bows before the Lord

By God Himself shall be restored.

And when all earthly crowns are dust,

Still blessed are the souls who trust;

For heaven keeps this promise true:

The Lord shall lift the humble too.