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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)    |
| The Bride awaits the trumpet call with lamp and extra oil. "The Bridegroom comes," alerting all to cease our make-work toil. If preparations are not met, and we're out making sure, the Groom will come as some do fret in a moment without cure. The oil and lamp cannot go out for those in garments white. They wait and serve His task about in grace with all their might. Great Wedding Feast has been prepared for those, who love His Face. In readiness with burdens pared, redeemed in lasting Grace. We do not know the day, nor hour, but the Trumpet Feast seems best to look for blessings He will shower, to snatch from one Long Test. by Jay O’Toole on January 31st, 2024   |
| What do I seek from Christmas Day? Is it the things I then may get? Is it the lights of bright display? Is it the hungry needs so met? The Best of Christmas Evermore is He, Who died upon the tree, The Light of Life to farthest shore, The Greatest Gift to you and me. This Babe, Who laid in manger low redeems each heart, that He has called. The greatest Christmas Joy to know His Resurrection no more palled. The Best of Christmas ever blest is knowing, that the Day won't end. The Joy is found in Arms to rest, and Saving Grace from Wrath to fend. The music of the Christmas hymns need never stop, nor lose their style. His Victory, it ever wins, and Hope is found in His Blest Smile. by Jay O’Toole on January 30th, 2024 |
| One month is gone with more to come, until He comes, again. Our hours, weeks, and months will sum these earthly days 'til then. The days we live, are they the best to count eternally? Will we be victors o'er each test in saving's Gift so free? One month is gone with ten to wait, until great Christmas time, but when behold the last great date, forever He's sublime. by Jay O’Toole on January 29th, 2024 |
| The Quiet is quite rarely all for little sounds emerge. In truth, one's sanity might fall in total silence dirge. The Quiet sounds like ringing's roar to those of us, who hear so many sounds that've got before when they're removed and clear. The Quiet's laced with cars' low din upon a nearby road, and squirrels assaying try to win some tree he feels he's owed. The Quiet shares its mental space with other sounds, that be, but often they are just erased as the mind needs time, that's free. by Jay O’Toole on January 26th, 2024 |
| Waiting for the start of the task. Waiting for my rest to come. Waiting for Someone to ask, "When will all Time be filled to the sum?" Waiting for my life to start. Waiting for this age to end. Waiting for the seas to part. Waiting for my heart to mend. Waiting stretches patience oft. Waiting wonders what to do. Waiting sees, that flight's aloft. Waiting sees a door, marked, "Through." Waiting knows there's One in charge. Waiting knows it's best to wait. Waiting sees the world at large. Waiting knows He won't be late. by Jay O’Toole on January 25th, 2024 |
| 'Tis true it's something we all know in theory or in fact. Annoying or endeared we grow, so clumsy or intact. Our relatives have watched our steps from toddling to old age. They've been there through our many schleps, the stupid ones and sage. In theory, relatives all bless, and help us on our way. In practice, there's a bit more stress with something else to pay. We see in life some progress made when smiles outweigh the taunts. The Golden Rule is thus obeyed in giving over wants. I think old Albert must have had some relatives in his days for he quite seemed a little mad in sticking tongue displays. But short the distance 'tween the two of wisdom or insane. "You drive me crazy! It's what you do, but I save on gas. It's plain." Progressive relativity in theory or in fact. We grow in creativity to hope where it is lacked. by Jay O’Toole on January 24th, 2024 |
| To write the words I feel within can help me to reform the wounded heart, that's broke by sin, whose days live in alarm. I think I write to feel the pats upon the back of me. It helps me wear the many hats of personality. My writing in poetic style gives voice to rhythm, rhyme. It shows the heartbeats for a while, a photograph of time. I write such novel concepts here, prosaic to the touch. The conversations, cloudy, clear show the life I see so much. The poetry most often flows in words, that jump to page. The character, that speaking knows emotions all will gauge. Each heart, that keeps things bottled up may life within depress, but sharing thoughts as friends do sup relieves the whole big mess. Perfection's rod may break us down to keep the life unknown. Poetic license turns the frown into some JOY full-grown. by Jay O’Toole on January 23rd, 2024 |
Relief from the cold we know, today with temps much higher, yet. The plants survived I grateful say at peace from this week's threat. Relief from the cold is just for now. The future may hold more of colder days, that backs may bow a-waiting spring before. Relief from the cold can touch the mind with gentle hope to see a day of grace with wonders kind, in time to darkness free. Relief from the cold in Jesus' Hand gives daily growth to bless. I've not one goodness for His Plan. Each sin I must confess. Relief from the cold apart from Christ is possible in He, Who bore my cost, that awful price, forever to be free. by Jay O’Toole on January 22nd, 2024 |
Hunger drives me in the morning to find some food. Filled. by Jay O’Toole on January 19th, 2024 |
| 'Twas Christmastime when He first came. However, not that date. The world would never be the same. His Gift would make some great! His second coming is not yet, but some will get the Call to leave with He, Who paid their debt to sup in the Marriage Hall. The Rapture is the phrase we use to speak of Blessed Hope for those, whose hearts did not refuse The One, Whose Blood is soap. We know not when in a moment's time the shout and trumpet sound will take us to that Heavenly clime forever to abound. Will we at breakfast or supper dine with those we love to live? Will we at work or resting fine have a moment's word to give? Some may be here to write a post a-sitting on a chair when in a flash each body, ghost will be gone over- by Jay O’Toole on January 18th, 2024 |
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