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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 (Philippians 2:13, KJV) https://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/2876959.Charles_Haddon_Spurgeon    |
When the day fades to its dusk, when the night the sky it fills, when the back feels sharpest tusk, needed hope relieves these chills. When the light can't bring its peace, when the dark is full of doubt, when the silence is release need we hope to stand about. When the words in the past, were great, when laud was once our dearest friend, when writing served up every plate great hope was there us to attend. When days to come were newer goals, when youthful legs would run the roads, when ideas were bright and bold then hope was blest in every mode. The day will fade when the light is gone. The night brings rest, and hope to come. The new by God is bless-ed drawn. The beat is heard by The Day's new drum. In grief, we slump through sadness known. No longer can we see the face, but better is our life now grown through time we spent in friendship's grace. When the day fades, life is o'er, but hope in God relieves some pain. Eternal is the bless-ed store. Lasting Day is ever gain. by Jay O’Toole on April 22nd, 2024   |
You try to learn to do the new, yet what we've known is stronger. Crocheting with some threads won't do. There's progress, but it's wronger. With threads so smooth I can crocket, or knit or friendship knot it. With scrubbing threads, what can I say, "They're bumpy, splayed. I caught it." I made a scrubber, but just once. The smoother thread was working, but this material won't ensconce. I can't crochet. I'm shirking. by Jay O’Toole on April 19th, 2024 |
The breezes blow as the days grow warm. The sound a strongish hum. Protecting from the heat and harm, reducing temps, now, some. A "white noise" background for this eve the fan proves rather large. Some birds still chirp. No need to leave, though whirring's like a barge. A gift, I'm able still to sit outside to write this post. Without the fan, I'd need to quit for heat's discomfort most. by Jay O’Toole on April 18th, 2024 |
Joyful home: wondrous, worldly wait womb of grand Eternity. by Jay O’Toole on April 18th, 2024 |
| Deep in thought we sometimes are. We can't find the way. Good solutions are by far crowned beyond today. "Watch and wait" is what we're told. God is not ever rushed. Trust in Him is always bold, even when we're hushed. Why should we think there's some Truth when it's not yet plain? Shines the sun through life from youth, even in the rain? Waiting in my thoughts each day, wond'ring what is next. Something now to do or say? Or just be perplexed? Thinking through this moment's rest, hoping for what's good, God will answer when it's best. Eat your daily food. by Jay O’Toole on April 17th, 2024 |
To make some art with knitted threads, we need to bind toge'er the colors of the greens and reds in joy for Christmas there. Embroidery is smaller sewn to form the pics by lines. A decorative towel then is known, a gift so wondrous fine. Crocheting can a sweater make or a scrub cloth, coarse. Ev'ry movement, that we take must use the needed force. Eternity is more than Time. Our deeds will He inspect, but if Christ's Deed removes our grime, His Perfection will bedeck. by Jay O’Toole on April 16th, 2024 |
Coffee mug and crullers meet. Moments mind the rest. Loving food the daily treat. Ever hopeful blest. Waiting for the ever Home, living through each test. Nevermore to search, nor roam. Ever hopeful blest. Music soothes the anxious heart, looking for God's best. Days ordained are sure to start. Ever hopeful blest. Something holds me back it seems from His peaceful nest. "Fear, thou not, O chose, redeemed." Ever hopeful blest. Many are the waking hours. "See in Grace you're dressed. Now, the Groom prepares your bowers." Ever hopeful blest. by Jay O’Toole on April 15th, 2024 |
The Monday moon eclipsed the day. 'Twas really a moon day. The light was lesser on display than normal it's display. But is the show quite over, yet? The peaceful lull before the things, which may not make the bet of prophecy and lore. A shaking could take place quite soon. The winds could really blow. The ocean waves could more than croon. An avalanche of snow. But what of God's great Mercy, Grace? Will Wrath be Earth's next test? Will Mankind know its bitterest taste? Just pray you're rescued, blest. by Jay O’Toole on April 12th, 2024 |
Light retreats as darkness comes. Earth can rest 'neath blanket still. Cooler temps bring hope from heat. Birds and insects sing their songs. by Jay O’Toole on April 11th, 2024 |
To make a joke, and make it's good, is really quite a gift. To nourish others with this food I hope their hearts to lift. But how to make this humor speak to most, who read the joke is really not an easy seek, avoiding hurtful pokes. To make quite well a funny thing is challenging at best. The concepts must of humor sing to make all be so blest. by Jay O’Toole on April 10th, 2024 |
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So beautifully written.
