Black line drawing of the handwritten script phrase Do not fear, for I am with you, with the reference Isaiah 41:10 below, as a lettering design.

Do not fear, for I am with you script

Lettering · Black and grey · Flash

The drawing shows the phrase Do not fear, for I am with you in flowing, hand-drawn script, set across several stacked lines with the words Do and I and You enlarged. The linework is black, uneven and sketchy, with no shading or colour, on a plain white background. The reference Isaiah 41:10 sits small and light grey in the lower right, leaving generous open space around the text.

Lettering Bible verse Scripture Quote Script Handwriting

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Now sit close, because the lamp won't last the telling. Seventy-one years back, in the Hollin pit above Carrick Vale, the cage stuck at the four-hundred-foot mark and three men went down the shaft on a rope nobody had checked since Easter. Dai Morrow was the youngest of them. His daughter Nell was six and drew letters on the back of her slate, big looping ones, because her schoolmistress believed in ink more than sums.

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Down in the dark the water came up through the floor as if it had been waiting. Dai's lamp guttered. Ezra Hale and old Caddock started praying in the loud way men do when they're frightened, but Dai couldn't find his prayers, so he did what his mother taught him. He found the words painted on the chapel wall and said them over and over until they belonged to him. Do not fear, for I am with you. He said it through his teeth while the timbers groaned above.

The rescue men tapped their way along the seam and reached them on the third morning. Dai was still saying it. Ezra swore afterwards that the voice in the dark had sounded a long way off and close as a hand on his shoulder all at once, and nobody in the village argued, because nobody has ever been able to say where a steady voice comes from.

Nell kept her slate. On it she'd written the line in her big hand and underlined the word she thought her father would need most, which was the small one at the end. It still hangs on the nail by our door, the chalk gone grey. Mind the step going out. It's worn hollow where a hundred boots have stopped to read it.