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 |    We live much of life amid unique choices. Joy is anchored in The One beyond our life. |
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“There are times when solitude is better than society, and silence is wiser than speech. We should be better Christians if we were more alone, waiting upon God, and gathering through meditation on His Word spiritual strength for labour in his service. We ought to muse upon the things of God, because we thus get the real nutriment out of them. . . . Why is it that some Christians, although they hear many sermons, make but slow advances in the divine life? Because they neglect their closets, and do not thoughtfully meditate on God's Word. They love the wheat, but they do not grind it; they would have the corn, but they will not go forth into the fields to gather it; the fruit hangs upon the tree, but they will not pluck it; the water flows at their feet, but they will not stoop to drink it. From such folly deliver us, O Lord. . . .” ― Charles Spurgeon “Our anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows, but only empties today of its strengths.” ― C. H. Spurgeon “Hope itself is like a star- not to be seen in the sunshine of prosperity, and only to be discovered in the night of adversity.” ― Charles Haddon Spurgeon “If sinners be damned, at least let them leap to Hell over our dead bodies. And if they perish, let them perish with our arms wrapped about their knees, imploring them to stay. If Hell must be filled, let it be filled in the teeth of our exertions, and let not one go unwarned and unprayed for.” ― Charles Spurgeon “A Bible that’s falling apart usually belongs to someone who isn’t.” ― Charles Spurgeon “Visit many good books, but live in the Bible.” ― Charles Spurgeon “When your will is God's will, you will have your will.” ― Charles Spurgeon https://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/2876959.Charles_Haddon_Spurgeon (Philippians 2:13, KJV)    |
| Wondrous to see culture in a Latin land with food and art to bring our hearts bless-ed good. From mountain vistas to the joy of beach sand remembering now the places we once stood. Speaking Spanish is a gift we all can learn. Yerba Maté is a drink of blest flavor. God-made souls of unique lives 'round ev'ry turn. Moments with each friend we make, we can savor. Worship God with greatest joy in this new tongue. Quinceñeras honor youth with fam'ly joy. Singing songs with strongest fervor, 'til they're sung. Showing others God's own Truth, we preach employ. by Jay O’Toole on July 26th, 2024   |
| The days of Christmas start so soon in August through the rest of this year, songs are made to croon with all our hearts quite blest. Though many do not understand my joy in this great time. The Birth of Jesus is so grand the year is made sublime. Some celebrate these very days as Christmas in July. The twenty-fifth is on display as some raise hands to "Why?" One wonders if the season known this year'll be quite the same, or if the Christians may have flown when Jesus calls our name. The Rapture may bring Jesus gifts upon His Birth this year. He wraps in newness. All He lifts rescued from sin and fear. Will His great Feast for wedding guests be decked in Christmas good? Or will we simply be full blessed with His Presence, and the food? "No man can know the day nor hour." Yet, blest are those found looking up unto The Savior's shady bower, to drink with Him the final cup. (Matthew 24:36, KJV) (Titus 2:13, KJV) by Jay O’Toole on July 25th, 2024 |
| The sinful life we all were born to live is full of self. The end is really bad. Th'ability to serve, and love, and give is given when The Lord becomes our Dad. Redemption is not of one thing I do, but of the things, that Jesus for me did. He paid my debt, and now it's ever through. He lived for me perfection. Now, I'm bid. I'm kept redeemed by He, Who mercy shows. I, now, may rest for I am in His Hands. My name is written from the first He knows. He's called me by His everlasting Plans. Are others called to live Salvation's Bliss? Indeed, elect are ones, who live like this. by Jay O’Toole on July 24th, 2024 |
| When waiting for the hopeful next to come, we're often stalled by wond'ring what to do. Must all be straightened, and so very plumb, or will the One make everything quite new? The day-to-day is often quite mundane as doing good is not the thing we laud, but in the end, the good has lasting gain, and greatest goodness treads the way not broad. The dusk is where we live in these last hours, the light is small as nightfall blankets day. Restore the peace of Garden's many bowers, and save us for Your honored Grace display. The Next will be for us the chosen Time. His Way is lofty, evermore sublime. by Jay O’Toole on July 23rd, 2024 |
To make a thing with hand and mind is really quite a gift. To share it with another 's kind, that two hearts it may lift. An earring made of polyclay, a hatpin, and French wire can give a friend a wondrous day a-lifting spirits higher. To knit a scarf is really nice, and if one has great speed, then winter's warmer once or twice, fulfilling this true need. To paint a scene with oils, pastels, or watercolor joy bespeaks great thoughts most tongues can't tell, great wisdom to employ. To decorate for the holidays requires effusive hearts, the ones, who work for more than praise with love in all their starts. by Jay O’Toole on July 22nd, 2024 |
| How doth a people find their greatness as when the hour is known for lateness? Will be the way we walk in straitness full known as steady? Is character of our innateness quite truly ready? How take we steps to rectify us when efforts like this soon will sigh us profane the man will weary pious with naught in goodness? The hopeless task will wail and cry us so mired in shouldness. We live this day of withered blessin', until we learn our latest lesson, "Our greatness will remain but guessin', until His Highness doth write the Truth, that we're confessin' in ev'ry sinus." Will we restore our greatness, lastly, until our sins confess we vastly, and our hearts on His Mercies cast we to seek this Saviour? If not, resulting Hell is ghastly, condemning labor. Our greatness is alone in Jesus, elect from Creation to seize us, regenerating whom to free us by His good pleasure. When coming to Him, He receives us as His great Treasure. by Jay O’Toole on July 19th, 2024 |
| A good ol' wad o' social dancin' of lowest naive or high-born prancin'. Good honesty ye pay when glancin', but when they're hardened, thee waffles thy good name by chancin', excused and pardoned. Faith wad the name o' goodness bein' within thy parts that no one's seein', that stands thee strong whilst others fleein'. Good character is with neighbors, and thy God agreein' 'til end endurance. The Pow'r o' God all true men make us, before that darksome angel take us, and o'er the bier the fresh dirt rake us, for we are goners. Then soon may His great Rapture quake us to lasting honors. The men we are inside's important. The good He gives is always ardent. The hymns we sing are aye accordant with truest hopin'. Escape in Christ that Place so mordant, no saneness copin'. O flee the flea in bonnet handsome, that ithers see not chinkness prancin' for reputation hath no ransom, nor returnin'. Oh, be we by The Savior's Ransom, never burnin'. by Jay O’Toole on July 18th, 2024 |
dear o deer, dear me Red Japanese Maple feast sapling's vuln'rable by Jay O’Toole on July 17th, 2024 |
The quiet times of late-day bliss when the sun is lesser seen. The fan blades cut the heat of this to temperatures between. To set the kettle on for tea, it makes the greatest sense for the evening's moments, then we see to make the nerves less tense. The Day of Gentiles sets anon, and soon The Rapture comes. The Hope of Glory lies beyond these earthly, daily sums. A sip of tea as night-cloth falls, a moment's thought of Home, Our Supper Time when Jesus calls will start the future tome. In a body weakened by the heat as the days of age now creep, we find new hope, that shan't retreat in great Truth, that flows so deep. The days of eve, all levels known, as God's great Plan unfolds, the days of life have wondrous grown, His blissful Future holds. This late-day bliss, it morphs into the glories of The Day. When the comfort of the tea is through "forever blest" will stay. by Jay O’Toole on July 16th, 2024 |
Of milk, of sweet, of flavors some the coffee takes its shape. Within a cup, the moments come plus muffin or a crepe. The coffee sits by lady, man, or child with a friend. The moments start without a plan or duty there to tend. Some talk is soft, or not at all. Some mouthfuls swilled in bliss, but when we're through, we've "had a ball" in chosen times like this. by Jay O’Toole on July 15th, 2024 |
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