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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)    |
| Events so awful are now done. The passions of the crowd, released. The death-shroud blankets o'er The Son. All "Crucify Him!" screams are ceased. All evil beasts exult, "We've won!" Believers tremble in a hold. The hope of all that's good is gone. The world has darkened, demons bold. The silence of the chirping din could mark that even insects knew The Lord of all creation's been reduced in death as one who's through. A skullish mount in stillness lies. A boulder seals the cave's grave door. One wonders if the sky now cries at He, Whose strength was known before. So, one more rabble-rousing voice has been dispatched to silent be. He could have lived, if by His choice He had bowed to those who ruled o'er He. But which of these had known His Heart. He came not to be pleasant, fair, but to give lost ones a new start. He bore our shame and lasting care. The night agreed with Man's verdict. So, holding fast the bier ensconced. The new day would awake, untricked, unknowing, that now Time lay minced. What grave could hold auspicious Dead? What fiend could seal His lasting fate? What damned could know defeat had bred this Victory forever Great? by Jay O’Toole on April 19th, 2025 |
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