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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)    |
To give ourselves to praying hearts will help ourselves and those, who need the Lord in daily starts as inner life, it grows. Just pray and cease not ev'ry day as going, breathing ones, who serve the Lord in each display as daughters or as sons. Do prayers need be the grinding type with face of muddy tears? Or can we bring a nose to wipe with all our daily fears? Our Father's Love is tender t'ward the fearful hearts of Earth, who trust His ways and mighty sword through His new saving birth. by Jay O’Toole on August 31st, 2021 |
| On summer nights the dark seeks me, now past the longish day I see. This silent steed of Time unknown thus queries Hope, I hope to free. My thoughts upon this summer's night all deeply contemplate the sight of days of yore upon the floor, as days we live appear in plight. The hackles of my justice grieved bespeak the words, "I've been deceived." I'm just one man among the masses for whom Thy Truth's not soon perceived. The summer's night, to dark devoted is filled with each concern I've noted. The merry Book of God still quoted. The merry Book of God still quoted. ---------------------------------------------------- Merry, prithee, dear reader. Honor the master poet, Robert Frost, from whose pattern my latest poem has taken its shape. In the style of "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening" I have followed rhyme scheme and rhythms more or less strictly with the exception of the third line of the third quatrain and the entire fourth quatrain in which I have made a variation to end those lines with female rhythms, rather than the male rhythms he used exclusively. Think thee of my poem as the slightest variation #1 on his exquisite theme. The link, that follows will take thee to his original poem. If thou wouldst take the time to read both poems in tandem, then I thank thee greatly. Gain thee enjoyment from the reading of the day.  https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42891/stopping-by-woods-on-a-snowy-evenin... by Jay O’Toole on August 30th, 2021 |
The welcome door, an open space, a swirling cloud of fragrant beans. I glide the floor to my first place to order best within my means. "A macchiato by my trow with almond milk, and make it hot." A blest momento I'll soon know to fly away, the day forgot. The wondrous foam, the temp so fine, espresso beans steeped mellow rest. It's acrid mist as the finest wine, now soothes my soul from each daily test. Though barely sipped, the piping foam escorts me hence to realms apart. The ambiance of living tome restores me best at first cup's start. With quiet like a library the bookish stroll the nearest shelf, but some, as I, the mind to free are struck by one, lone, seated elf. The welcome hand of twinkling lights doth bid me come to restful glow. I sit awhile as day meets night, a-shedding burdens I oft know. The waning cup as candle melts. It bids adieu to silent stares. My spirit helps my soul now telt, that hope has come to lift my cares. Return I do to order fresh a half-caff brew to walk me home. A tear now shed in this modern creche, a stable mood is rare to come. I pause within the open door to wistful wave barrista's way. We've done this dance so oft before, "Goodnight, Dear Patron, 'til the day." I sip through now two dozen steps to build resolve for homeward trek. How soon may I return here next as trudging, broken, solemn wreck? The days of life make magnet strong this happy place of moments' bliss. My heart will lift its silent song of pleasant scents with peace to kiss. Through warmth of cup, and rest for mind, I find again my lasting truth. He made me see, who once was blind to rest in Him these years from youth. No doubt the reader will recognize the allusion in verse #5 as being a reference to the tradition found on this website. Enjoy. https://elfontheshelf.com/christmas-tradition/ Coffee & Christmas are two important respites in this writer's life. I hope in yours as well. by Jay O’Toole on August 27th, 2021 |
| I want to play beyond my skill. I have the will to practice hard for Name so starred. I want my skill to be its best to meet each test, to soar above with songs I love. My skill's a gift from God Above I use in love to bless the world with sounds unfurled. by Jay O’Toole on August 26th, 2021 |
How doth the day yet wander in thy will? The wise man's folly watcheth thee to guide. Betraying best, while calling sweet the swill, from final Judge no place will cause thee hide. The wicked man doth see no future Day when all is Light, where clothing covers naught. The lasting Master will thy sin bewray at time when dullard's heart cannot be taught. O, hear'st thee not the savior's pleading cry? "Return! Return for I would save thee all!" Unhelped remain'st thee in the by and by as prideful heart would cause thee e'er to fall? But Wisdom's heart doth fall on melting face before the One, Who offers lasting Grace. by Jay O’Toole on August 25th, 2021 |
"Two lives diverged" said Robert Frost, though not in words so truly plain. He quoth for us the daily cost of choices made and choices lost in life so blest (or not) by rain. My days of life did take the way of artist wife and actor-child. Another path The Lord did stay of filled-up classrooms, minds of clay a-speaking truth with voice so mild. Were both as worthy? Honest quests? Of this I trow. I daren't choose. The Lord still molds me with His tests to write His story, and me bless, by talents He has yet to use. I shall be sighing as I speak at laud now lost through days of shade. The lion rests in place more meek than ever he would dare to seek, but ruling Lord must be obeyed. by Jay O’Toole on August 24th, 2021 |
| My words can find a lasting home, while breathing them in ether's tome. Some are kind, and quite tasty. Some are harsh. These are wasty. Some grow blooms on other hearts. Words, that matter. Spoken smarts. My words can find a lasting home, while breathing them in ether's tome. by Jay O’Toole on August 23rd, 2021 |
Days of waiting draw upward eyes. Hopeful hearts see the anchored skies. Softened souls, seasoned tender. Truth once known, now remember. Good thought past, now is bolder. Youthful thoughts fill the older. Days of waiting draw upward eyes. Hopeful hearts see the anchored skies. by Jay O’Toole on August 20th, 2021 |
| Strength of pine trees, needles showing, summer, winter, always growing. Living with extremities heat makes brown on some of these, but regal green still shining keeps hearts for these trees pining. Strength of pine trees, needles showing, summer, winter, always growing. by Jay O’Toole on August 19th, 2021 |
thick air, unseen cloud hot and humid August days rain can seem as naught by Jay O’Toole on August 18th, 2021 |
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So beautifully written.