Poetry of the Redeemed
Copyright© 2026 by Oz Ozzie
Chapter 1
Upon the Most Gracious Heart of the King
(Court Poet)
Not by the sword that guards the throne,
nor by the law’s far-reaching hand,
is the true measure of a crown made known,
nor how its armies hold the land —
but by the heart the King doth bear,
and what that heart, being moved, will dare.
For darkness rose against the high,
a treason black as starless night,
to pull the prince and people down, and try
to put out heaven’s anointed light;
and lesser men, in lesser years,
had met that dark with naught but tears.
But the Gods, who order all aright,
and love the realm, and love the King,
chose for Their instrument the slightest light —
a captive thing, a nameless thing,
a handmaid bound, of no estate,
set lowest at the lowest gate.
Mark well how Grace delights to choose
the meanest vessel for its sign:
the costliest wine in commonest cups He pours,
that none may say the strength was thine —
the deed was great, the doer small,
that Heaven, not the hand, have all.
She bore the fearful thing by dark,
through all the sleeping city’s length,
nor faltered once, nor missed her mark,
but spent her small and borrowed strength,
and kept her faith, and would not bend,
and brought it to the throne’s true friend.
And so the morning found us whole,
the prince yet quick, the King yet crowned,
the column broken, and the traitors’ roll
led out in irons to the ground —
and all of it, from first to last,
upon one faithful captive cast.
Now hear what manner of a King
sits throned above so wide a land:
not one who takes the gift and keeps the ring,
and turns away the giving hand —
but one whose heart, being truly great,
will stoop the lowest to elevate.
He might have left her where she lay,
her service done, her use complete;
a lesser heart had looked away,
and let her vanish in the street.
He did not. For the royal breast
holds mercy with its purpose dressed.
He raised her up. He broke her chain.
He named her free before them all —
and being free, she has a name:
KARA, that once was but a thrall,
KARA, lift up, no longer bound,
the lowest raised from lowest ground.
And more: he searched her secret heart,
and found the wish she dared not own,
and gave her that — the healer’s art,
a roof, a calling, and her own
small means to spend, that grace might run
through her to those the realm shuns none.
For this is how a great heart gives:
not grudging, measured, cold, and thin,
but seeking out the wish that lives
unspoken in the breast within,
and granting that — so that the gift
be not a weight, but a true lift.
O mark the hall that day, and see
what no man living thought to see:
the highest lord on bended knee,
the lowest slave set kindly free,
and ranged between, from least to most,
the whole wide realm a single host —
and not one heart in all that press
but warmed, and rose, and was made glad;
the great rejoiced in her redress,
the low rejoiced in all she had;
and high and low, and bond and free,
were one in heart, as none could be —
save that one heart had made it so.
For Grace, poured out, will overflow:
the King’s heart moved, and moving, taught
ten thousand hearts the joy it brought,
till all the court, the whole estate,
was glad, because the King was great.
So let it stand, and let it last,
beyond the singing of this day:
that crowns are kept by armies vast,
but crowns are loved a kinder way —
that what a hard hand cannot win,
a great heart gathers from within.
Praise, then, the King, and praise his Grace,
and praise the Heart that is its spring;
and praise the lowest in her place,
raised up to grace a gracious King;
and praise the day, from least to most,
when one heart made of all one host.
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