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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    |
tears fall from the sky cloudy cap to end the year nourishment for Earth by Jay O'Toole on December 31st, 2020 New Year's Eve |
The Seeker seeks the wayward lamb. He came, the Lamb in a manger laid. His Name for aye, "The Great I Am." Salvation brought, the Lamb's display. The seeking Shepherd, Lamb once slain, is given souls by Father brought. Each comes to Him with a heart so plain, and broken spirit, easily taught. The Lord, Who seeks, won't ember snuff. He knows each heart weighed low by fear. His Grace for all is full enough to bring great peace, and dry each tear. (Matthew 12:20) "Dear Sheepish Heart, the Shepherd knows your days on Earth are not the end. Your peaceful sleep in sheepcote grows as you see Who now daily tends. "So, find your rest in thorny hay. The Shepherd lies across the door. No enemy can e'er dismay, while Jesus seeks their rout before." "No sheep can come into my fold, except the Father draws him there. I'll raise him when all time is told, and rest him, where there is no care." (John 6:44; Hebrews 4:9) "Each long-sought sheep My Father gives, and when he comes, I'll ne'er reject. I've sought you, that you'll ever live, and in my arms, none knows neglect." (John 6:37) "New life I give to sheep of Earth. I sense each need and meet it best. They're raised to life through my new birth. their Shepherd, Victor o'er each test." by Jay O'Toole on December 30th, 2020 |
Conceived in pain of loss by viral ghost, you languored on a bed of distanced hearts. Silent cries unheard through face unseen. Gestation filled with lies and angry words have caused us to seek your birth with all our fleeting hopes. You must be better than the fading womb. The fireworks of your first angelic cries will give us measured hope, that good has come, but then we'll know when lover's day is here. Oh, Afterbirth begone by blooming shoots. Thy bum be cleaned when roses fully smile, and health return before the rains of spring. The son of pain need not be pain himself for many painful births are long forgot, but called upon to bring us hope, today. The Towers bowed in Judgment's painful birth. The Arizona sank into a salty pool, and 2020 floundered of health and well-being. May God bring Hope amid uncertain birth. May Joy restore your name and days anew. May the newborn year be what we long to see. by Jay O'Toole on December 29th, 2020 |
one year gone next year's come account stands --------------------------- regret's done Hope's new birth days, months fade --------------------------- cleanest slate all is new rest restored by Jay O'Toole on December 28th, 2020 |
| 'Twas the night before Christmas, all frigid and wet, but the family was home with our duties all met. The stockings were pulled o'er my now thankful feet, twinkling lights all around in my cozy retreat. The papa had wrapped all the last-minute gifts in hopes, that their joy would all spirits soon lift. The child was still playing her Mine Craft apace with visions of flan, that her plate once did grace. Her Mom was now sleeping with Kindle in hand, and I at my laptop a poem to plan. When there, in the middle of night, I found cause to put down my laptop, and take a long pause. Everyone else in the house was asleep, and I in my quiet, barely making a peep, knew, that time had now come for to hie me to bed, so the good morrow of the sun 'twouldn't find me sleeping instead. by Jay O'Toole on December 24th, 2020 |
The Living Lord, the Lord of All had wealth and royal degree. The angels bowed at His first call. Why would He bow for me? He bowed down from His highest place. He bowed to work with tools. He bowed to bear my shame, disgrace. He died among the fools. The Lord of Glory made all things, controlling all that is, but when He came to this Earth of kings a baby's shape was His. With "Holy, Holy, Holy" hymn to greet His every day His glowing brightness never dimmed. Forever did obey. The Baby had the same respect from angels and the blest. Shekinah Glory still bedecked The One, Who faced our test. The babe, the boy, the teen, the man were still God's Only Son. Salvation's cost was His great Plan. He rose. The Victor won. One day the Babe will come as King. His enemies in fear will fall defeated as we sing of Christ, the One held dear. by Jay O'Toole on December 22nd, 2020 |
Hope's the anchor holding us in each monstrous gale. Awful times may shake our trust, causing warmth to fail. The One, Who caused this world to start, has never turned it loose. Hope in Jesus is the heart of lasting Truth we choose. At Christmas, Jesus changed the case against our misery. He came to Earth to fully engage our mortal enemy. He died upon the cruel cross, was laid upon a slab, arose again for His blest cause, defeating Satan's trap. This Hope will come, again, quite soon to right all which is wrong, and when He does the lasting tune will be Salvation's song. by Jay O'Toole on December 21st, 2020 |
Santa grew his beard so big, you couldn't see his mouth. You couldn't see his nose or rig, that helped him drink from a spout. The picture was quite funny, too. We kept our distance, see? With a green screen 'hind me 'fore we're through, they had me on his knee. "Just PhotoShop the pic and go! We've got a big ol' line!" I paid the bucks and don't cha know? Our friendship's still quite fine. He promised to get me my gifts. Express them all FedEx, but He'd not show, nor finger lift, except to send a text. "Were these the quantities you desired? And did we meet your needs?" "Well, Yes, but I don't think I hired some other reindeer breeds." "Just press the '1.' We'll think it's 'Yes.' A '2' will bring us low. We're working on our holiday mess." "Okay, it's '1' to help you go, but Santa didn't come this year to bless. Is this really the game I must play and know?" "The COVID monster got the Claus." "Do you speak seriously? I need to think, and moment pause, about what this might be." This May there was no circumstance, nor pomp to seniors bless. So, why should Santa take a chance to flue the sickness, guess. The reindeer "outside dine" always, but the Clauses never do. Why should Saint Nick be on display with something worse than the flu? A virtual Christmas it shall be of social-distance cause. He'll be here. Worry not. You'll see, but munch the cookies beClaus.  by Jay O'Toole on December 17th, 2020 |
A bunch of roughnecks on a hill, keeping sheep alive. Most night's they're facing fang or kill from wolfish pack, survive. These hardened watchers of the dark have little cause for fear. No slinking foe will make its mark with muscled shepherds near. But suddenly a blinding light erased their hiding place. Great angel bands dispatched the night to speak of coming Grace. With knocking knees and terror's mask, they melted in the dust. "Fear not! Behold! Good News, my task for all Earth's souls to trust." "For you this day in David's town, the King is lately born. He's by you near, and quickly found in a manger this Christmas morn. (Luke 2:8-18) by Jay O'Toole on December 15th, 2020 |
an impasse giant sea frothing foe growing fear dying hope none to help waves now stand narrow path victory --------------------------- doing right bad result senselessness wrong may win right may fail Where is God? angel fights troubled foe waters clap ---------------------------- biding time standing firm wait for God walk the path hope for good know the best time will tell twenty won Glory's His by Jay O'Toole on December 14th, 2020 |
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So beautifully written.