%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |    We live much of life amid unique choices. Joy is anchored in The One beyond our life. |
|
“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)    |
Threads of crafts, and threads of thoughts, Threads of life forevermore, Threads of wisdom we've been taught, Threads of future days before. Colors wrapped toge'er we find things now joined in crafts new made. Clasping hands with friends is kind. Daily deeds t'ward God obeyed. Threads are joined in mem'ry hoop, like the thoughts of threaded past. Threaded deeds, the lifelong troupe Threaded plays, Forever's cast. by Jay O’Toole on May 31st, 2024   |
When I'm sad a cup of tea, and poetry makes well. Writing seems the heart to free in chosen words, that tell. When I'm sad, it seems I've lost, that good will never win, but when I think "He paid the cost," I'm ne'ermore bound by sin. When some bully overrides the plans I had, today, sadness now can make me hide to sleep before I play. When I'm sad I need to write, restoring strong my voice. Joy in Christ, my strongest might, firm must be my choice. When I'm sad my doubts begin. I wonder where my words can start. "Will I ever write, again? Will He ever heal my heart?" When I'm sad, I must needs stop, and catch my breath posthaste. Gladness, now, is not on top, and far from my first taste. When I'm sad, a cup of tea, alone or with a friend, 'sreally a great need for me to start my day to mend. by Jay O’Toole on May 30th, 2024 |
The years of life are flying by. We ponder through the past. So, what was good, of word or try, that ever will yet last? The days of childhood, playfully were times of joyful bliss. The hope of life so big and free knew Momma's peaceful kiss. Each teenage year was quite the thing. The sweetest love refused. It stopped the heart's first try to sing, but only ego bruised. The adult years in many ways were times for growing strong. Careers a-plenty on display to find where we belong. A senior cleans the floors, lifts trash, to make the place look good, completing well the lifelong dash to honor God as would. by Jay O’Toole on May 29th, 2024 |
Gentle lights adorn the porch, remind of Christmas nights. Late the days 'mid humid torch hope in colors bright. Gentle lights or brightest day Christ will come again. All His Glory on display, Victor o'er my sin. Gentle lights shine wondrous when Earth tromps into dark. Jesus died for chosen men, Elect for lasting Ark. Gentle lights as sunset dims put the yard to bed. Sweet the cup of blessing brims into the night we're led. Gentle lights adorn this life, remind of life with Him when all Earth's distress, and strife ceases for His Hymn. by Jay O’Toole on May 28th, 2024 |
steamy through the day happiness for southern leaves mockingbirds now fly by Jay O’Toole on May 27th, 2024 |
standing stalwart high lot of life that's over now waiting for its rest by Jay O’Toole on May 24th, 2024 |
Writing from my youth expresses my heart. Sometimes sensible and wise, poetry brings growth. Other days in jest poetry brings relief. When blank the mind, poetry is silent. Depression ravages the heart. Poetry salves balm. Money pays the bills. Verse makes life. The past may taunt. Poetry gives hope. Life may seem meager. Poetry lifts it. Not adverse to verse, smiles save youth. Rhythm's rhyme each day makes it well. by Jay O’Toole on May 23rd, 2024 |
Gentle evening writing pros, yet the prose don't often come. Poetry, it rhymes of those, who write the words in part and sum. Writest thou the poems, now when sun doth hie, and swift away? Makes, thee, Burns to come and bow before thy lilting to obey? Rhyme and rhythm e'er the Bard accosts thy foolishness and mirth. Poetry of breath or lard, hopeful thoughts or light of worth. Lightly singst thy gift of wit? Lightly writ before 'tis o'er? Lightly laughs this latest bit for poem's gone when could be more. by Jay O’Toole on May 22nd, 2024 |
| Streaks of gold across the green, a trunk as a lightbulb in the sky. Nandina splayed as yellow-green. The moment's frozen as we sigh. Sasanquas painted yellow gold their mirrored glory ends the day. Buddleia stands up mauvish bold, Nandina whites in broad display. The underside of pecan limbs were bright, but now they're forest green. The sun bespeckles leafy slim as the glow becomes the gray still seen. A spider on its filament thread swings deftly on the fan wind blown. The day is ending. Darkness dread we hope throughout 'til morning's shown. by Jay O’Toole on May 21st, 2024 |
| T: Humans are broken to the core. We're dead in trespasses and sins. Our spirits can't arise before The Lord of Glory life amends. U: For at the Founding of the Earth, the Lord has chosen all He saves. His Hands create Elect new birth, redeeming spirits from their graves. L: Th'Atonement is for those He saves to limit cost upon Him laid. Through bles-sed Blood, they're no more slaves. His Greatest Gift is finished, weighed. I: Rebellious humans at the heart are fashioned into wanting Him. The Tuner's Fork creates the start. Once bitter-spoke, now worship's hymn. P: When saved, redeemed, and from Hell free, th'Elect is never lost again. Now hid in Wings, that Christ we see. Fore'er Messiah, He did win. by Jay O’Toole on May 20th, 2024 |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
