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) |
cold days now are two soon the heat will come and stay enjoy the respite by Jay O’Toole on March 19th, 2024 |
Swimming trees through cloudy blue lift hearts through mid-aft chilly breeze. Season's day is always new as life is lived by its degrees. Cat stands near the master's chair, rubbing leg, while scanning yard. Gaining strength, relieving care to honor his near sitting bard. Elm tree sways in rustling wind, revealing gaping holes in boughs. Light green leaves their message send "We hang on 'mid the tests to vows." Earth is never still at all. It spins and hurtles through the dark. Days of life still shout God's call to find our safety in His Ark. Dead the pine still towers o'er its place within the grove of trees. Curious how many more will be the days this regal sees. Small dianthus blooms amass, so strong enduring temps extremes. Cold the winter's recent past, so hot the summer's months it seems. Squirrel skitters on the fence, but "on the fence" he's not 'bout much. "Place is mine!" He will not mince. Intruders quick he them will touch. In God's Hands all still is good. Each day is ordered by His Word. Man's attempts won't change His mood. Forever He is Holy Lord. by Jay O’Toole on March 18th, 2024 |
Faded roses on the shelf, once so red the bunch. Days of life ago were new. Now, just time for lunch. Faded roses once were goals, thoughts so full and free. Now, they're gone, without much left, but hoped Eternity. Faded roses, like the grace youthful life can give. Old, the days we can't restore. Step and breathe to live. Faded roses in the snow of a winter's day. Some things gone we can't get back. Spring doth next obey. Faded roses fertilize gardens we will see. Tears' regret will water in Hope for you and me. Faded roses mark the past. Days we lived in joy. Treasuring only what we've done won't new life employ. Faded roses, moments' tears, good enjoyed by all. Future days to live for God. Read His daily call. by Jay O’Toole on March 15th, 2024 |
In living life, we've many sunny days. Sundays. Avoiding strife, we've many things to do. Tada! (Open hands wide.) Pursuing Joy, the best of Life is free. So free. With Smile's employ, we lived the better chunk. We thunk. Through final days, the backward looks amaze. A maze. The good we praise. The bad we need let go. Ya know? Through bluest sky, we wait The Lord's Return. Discern. This world "Goodbye," we'll live forevermore. E'ermore. by Jay O’Toole on March 14th, 2024 |
brighter light exists gentle, quiet in this place hoped for days to come by Jay O’Toole on March 13th, 2024 |
The Blessed Hope of Christ's Return to whisk His Bride away is Joy for which she now doth yearn through ev'ry passing day. "When will He come to take me Home? When will the evil end? When will I rest, no more to roam? When say I, 'Bye' to sin?" Do wear, thee, garment for the Feast? Is decked thy robe all white? Is the oil lamp trimmed by even the least? Is the extra oil made right? When The Trumpet Call and the Shout is made, The Bride must ready be. Thy sins upon The Groom were laid. The Bride made ready He. The Blessed Hope is by His Hands. The Bride He chose by His Will. The Everlasting Day by His Plan He evermore fulfills. by Jay O’Toole on March 12th, 2024 |
coating land and sea tough the breaths for all that's made pretty are the blooms by Jay O’Toole on March 11th, 2024 |