Poems About Salvation Novels & Stories

His son found his salvation in his love and it was just because of that only person, Ariella Kayzon. Placing his palm over Ariella's head, Dawson pecked the top of her head, causing her heart to warm up, including Kieran's. “Thank you,” Dawson said to Ariella, bringing a smile to her face because she knew why he was saying that to her. He was utterly grateful to her for healing the pain he had given not just only to her but his child and even his pain too. She had cured all of their pains with her hope, love and sacrifices. She indeed became a beautiful salvation for all of them, especially his son.

From throne to throne From dream to dream I will grow tall In life's stream One day One day I will begin it Like a reality I don't gather pace I don't begin without defeat The world has cultured me Differently Each day Each inch Come celebrate Christmas again Redevise it's every inch Instead of just worshipping Jesus Let's also step into worship Christmas tree And then why not every tree That enables life Or isn't a weed Instead of decorating with colours Let gifts include the things of need After evaluating deep Each one's need With joy of fragrance With a touch of glory Let life again begin On the 25th Jesus was born to save Let's work to save life again Let's not allow slain Let's not sla

Our sounds of pleasure booms from our chest reverberating through the open field to imprint themselves beneath the soil of our land. All I believe is that nothing of our past needs to be retained in my soul except for one element. Lumina was, is and shall always be my salvation. {𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕰𝖓𝖉}

“Saviour! Saviour! Saviour!” They had called upon the sky and he had answered. Their savior was here. It was time for war. ___ ___ ((Please check out “Stealing The Alphas' Soul”. Thank you.))

Dreading dawn like it was a death sentence itself. “Please God, save me already.”

“Drift. I know you can hear me. Whatever it’s showing you—whatever peace you think it’s offering—it’s not real. It feeds. That’s all it does. On you. On us.” Drift trembled. The glow of the Seed pulsed erratically. “I… I saw them. All of them. The others who came before. I saw you. Failing. Dying.” “I have failed,” Clara said. “But I’m still here. I’m still fighting. Because you’re worth saving.” The voice came again—stronger, deeper. No longer from above, but from within Drift himself. “There is no salvation, Clara. There is only what must be carried. He is not your burden. He is the vessel.”

Mae returned to her room, grabbed the leftover wolfsbane from the previous month, and pinned Caspian down before forcing the poison down his throat. The boy's screams ripped through the entire pack house as the poison corroded his tongue and throat. Blood even started pouring out from his lips. Naveah, who was beside them, screamed in terror. Mae turned around and yanked her by the hair. "Why are you screaming? It's your turn now!" With that, she upended the rest of the vial over Naveah's head. The smell of burning flesh filled the air as Naveah shrieked in agony, rolling on the floor.

my voice breaks off on a sob, theres no fucking way. The man contiunes chanting the same thing but something is different now, "Prințesa noastră pierdută din clanul românesc a fost găsită, trezește-i pe bătrâni și pregătește-te de război. I can feel the pressure start to build around me, seeping inside my body and warming me from the inside out.

“Honestly, I'm really scared, Isioma. What have I gotten myself into? With the amount of sin I've committed, can I still achieve salvation?” “Of course, you can. God is so merciful. He loves everyone equally. And salvation is free. God is always willing to forgive us for our transgressions, if and only if we acknowledge them and come to Him with remorse, just like you've already done.” Isioma assured him, placing her hand on his unsteady hand. “Trust me on this, there's still hope for you, JD. If you follow God's instructions to the letter, you'll find inner peace like you've never known before.”

I’ve loved you in the way sunlight loves windows—full of grace, even when filtered. I didn’t write this for praise. I wrote it to name what I never want to forget: You saved me without asking for anything in return. You are the kindest story I’ve ever stepped into. And staying—here, beside you—is the most radical poem I’ve ever learned to recite. Yours in crooked shelves, Yours in every page, Yours in softness, Y._