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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)    |
| steamy through the day happiness for southern leaves mockingbirds now fly |
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 |
Success may not come in great and large ways, but in the things small every day. The life, that we live in The Lord yet obeys in the things, that we do and we say. Meet words for our friends and our loved ones are best. Remove we the burdensome quips. Lift loads from their shoulders in some daily tests, and bless them with love from our lips. That little is big when God holds the key removes some great worries we bear. There never is something, that is from God free. His Will is yet known everywhere. by Jay O’Toole on May 17th, 2024 |
How many the days with thoughts ever sage do I ponder the life evermore? Will the hope of the blest beyond Life's final page find its rest within one Final Door? There's a Word given True, that will never return to The One, Who declared it be last. His Salvation is done, that we nevermore burn, since His Mercy and Grace is so vast. Let us never refuse what He's given us best, that Eternity's nothing but grief for He rose from the dead, and He passed ev'ry test. We're soon there for this life is quite brief. It's through faith we've been giv'n, and grace undeserved, that His Wrath is removed from our Day. The less is now blest by The Greater, Who served. We, now, in love do joyous obey. by Jay O’Toole on May 16th, 2024 |
The joy of finding a new friend is wonderful and blest. Agreement in our thoughts will blend with hope to give us rest. As friend with friend we find our place to share agreement's bliss. The wondrous gift of God's Own Grace performs by His Hand this. Distractions may come in between to mar our hoped-for time, but heart's agreement fully seen is friendship most sublime. Constraints of days and wand'ring hours may mitigate our joy, agreement in eternal tow'rs will God's Own Will employ. Elect from Earth's Foundation's true, agreement in His Word. The heart made holy, wondrous new agrees with One Lone Lord. by Jay O’Toole on May 15th, 2024 |
The quiet doggie on the brown bookshelf was once the friend, who nuzzled through our days. Releasing her, restored her peaceful self, but now she's gone, no more in fun to play. The quiet doggie in her little box. The ashes of the friend we once did know. She list intently to my many talks. Her love for us had many ways to show. The quiet doggie lives within my thoughts. The days of joy we cannot live, again. What lessons were the ones, that we were taught? What things undone could I go back to mend? The quiet doggie cannot bark to show her people have returned more time to know. by Jay O’Toole on May 14th, 2024 |
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