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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    |
| For many days along the winding path the youth began to ponder longish steps. The reedy bagpipes made him stop to laugh, while hyacinths along his mustache crept. Through craggy steeps and blackest vales he trudged with radiant heart oft marked by foes' true shots. The shredded sheet of hope some days begrudged his spirit food, and left him tied in knots. His memories meandered from the crevices of mind. The tiny tot embraced his bowl of ice cream with his face. Vanilla filled with choc'late chips, intensest joy so blind. Embraced by fluffy, heavy quilts the pain of life erased. The ancient man, a shudd'ring mass of raw, unyielding pain faced ebony foe with blood-caked claws in shaking courage stood. His final, raspy breaths of venting life he hoped to gain Blest entrance through the Golden Gate by Vic'try o'er the Wood. As Death embraced the soaked and weary, frightened, sobbing soul Most Brilliant Light broke through the acrid coal in steely Joy. "My Victory o'er cross and grave for making lost ones, whole, is your great Gift. So, rest in me, salvation to employ." The unknown path through cloud-crowned peak to fairest land beyond still brings the stalwart, faithful heart some icy steps to tread, but when the fleeting breath of life is on the wind and gone believing souls in Strong Hands' Grace will live, no more be dead. by Jay O'Toole on May 15th, 2019 |
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So beautifully written.
