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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)    |
Psalm 11, a Poetic Paraphrase: The Lord is where I put my trust. Why tell my soul to run away? The Lord's Foundation, true and just, more strength than mountain's bird nest stay. Please, watch, Oh Lord, the wicked bend their bow to shoot upon the string, that arrow harsh my heart might rend, nor more an upright song to sing. For if foundations be destroyed, a place to stand be soundly moved, how can the righteous be employed? How can their hearts be lately soothed? The Lord is in His Holy Place, the Temple, Throne in Heav'n Above. His eyes behold, His eyelids grace the sons of men, His lasting Love. The Lord doth try the righteous ones, but wicked villains are despised. The lover of all violence runs, his soul is hated as devised. Upon the wicked, He shall rain His snares, and fire, and brimstone hot. An awful tempest, crushing gains, this is their portion, cup, and rot. The righteous Lord loves righteousness On every righteous soul to bless. His countenance doth see, behold the upright, whom His Arms enfold. ------------------------------------------------------------------ Original Text: "1 In the Lord put I my trust: how say ye to my soul, Flee as a bird to your mountain? 2 For, lo, the wicked bend their bow, they make ready their arrow upon the string, that they may privily shoot at the upright in heart. 3 If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do? 4 The Lord is in his holy temple, the Lord's throne is in heaven: his eyes behold, his eyelids try, the children of men. 5 The Lord trieth the righteous: but the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth. 6 Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone, and an horrible tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup. 7 For the righteous Lord loveth righteousness; his countenance doth behold the upright." (Psalm 11:1-7, KJV) ---------------------------------------------------------------- by Jay O’Toole on September 30th, 2020 |
Quiet moments from the Lord. Quiet moments in His Word. Quiet moments, Time is blurred, until we're face-to-face. Quiet moments, no debate. Quiet moments on each plate. Quiet moments. God is great. His Hand we oft must trace. Quiet moments. His great win gives us peace in days past sin. Quiet moments with our kin in Heaven's lasting Place. by Jay O’Toole on September 29th, 2020 |
Oh, who can rest in boist'rous waves assaying our demise. The One Lone God in Power saves, and keeps us as His Prize. But watch Him sleep as the rudder reels, and threatens to break off, yet presently awake He deals with dark clouds borne aloft. "Shalom. These men belong to me. Return to glass and sun. Permission is not given thee to wrestle for your fun." "Who is this man?" Astonied men are staggered by their thoughts. "He speaks the word and lately wins as the storm like students taught." The waves now stilled, the dark dispersed, the mariners at peace. Th'experience leads to knowledge thirst as struggles quickly cease. Another day He went to pray upon a mountain near, but when the light had ebbed away, He passed this night so dear. His students fared not good, nor great, but roiling in the soup, He seemed as though He waited late for nearly broke the sloop. Compassioned heart He came to them a-walking on the waves. Not knowing that He need not swim, they were now Fear's best slaves. "Fear not," he quoth, "Your Lord is here. I am. So, know you, joy. The storm's a test. Receive good cheer. Now, faith you must employ." "Oh, Lord, I'd come to you alone," spoke Peter from the heart. "Then, come," and Peter's faith was shown at the walk on the water's start. The boisterous waves made him afraid. His sinking was begun. Yet, just as soon his Lord was bade, quick-lifted by the Son. "Oh, Little Faith, why did you doubt?" No answer was returned. They entered the ship, the end of their route, and peace from Him they learned. Great words they offered Him right there. Astonishment galore. "Thou art the Son of God," we swear, and worshipped they The Door. These days are blowing 'gainst our soul, but Jesus is The Way. Just trust His Heart. You're fully whole. The waves must Him obey. by Jay O’Toole on September 28th, 2020 |
To lift up from the leaden sod we feel the lofty breeze. The hope we have is now from God, Whose arms in comfort ease. Anxiety makes stuck the heart. Depression weighs it down, but hopefulness within will start when glad word changes frown. Once high above this darkened Earth perspective starts to shift. The One, Who gives me blest New Birth takes charge to fully lift. The hot air makes the craft to rise. The cool air lets it down as warm hearts see the lasting prize, the cold in sadness drown. The same air brings destruction's force or breath to fill the lungs. The wind fills sails to stay the course, and songs the birds have sung. The winds of change this year have blown to knock us off our feet, The seeds of Hope are daily sown. The Master's smile we greet. by Jay O’Toole on September 24th, 2020 |
Standing for the good and right, Stand against the "day," that's night. Stand and pray for lost souls' plight, until the Lord returns. Standing for God's breath-ed Truth, Stand and preach to claylike youth. Stand and speak what God still doeth as candle's flame still burns. Standing turns the night to day, Stand and sing, His Word to say. Stand and go, His Call obey because the world still learns. Standing for we cannot fall. Stand until the upward Call. Standing, daily giving all, until all lost hearts turn. by Jay O’Toole on September 24th, 2020 |
Perfection keys the lock to Bliss. The Master I must ever kiss, but am I saved by only this when I can't live it true? Perfection is the Gift so plain for I could never hope to gain. He brought me in from standing rain. He'll do the same for you. Perfection is His lasting Grace. Unblemished is His lovely Face. The road to Calv'ry we must trace to see what He could do. Perfection rests not e'er upon me. 'Tis only on His Mercy free. Forgiven debt and Grace will be the Key the Day all through. by Jay O’Toole on September 23rd, 2020 |
The Hope we have belongs to God. His Finished Work in joy applaud with teary eyes so greatly awed, forever with Him reign. The hopes of Earth are fleeing fast, each day a Happy, that won't last, tomorrow's Face, a Judgment blast, with color, that will drain. This Hope, He gives by His Own Hand, receiving heart, a place to land, the future now, so wondrous grand, the best we surely gain. The hopeful heart can rest in peace. Shalom doth mollify, release, our Joy in Christ will never cease. The Truth we've known is plain. The Person of our Hope is Love. He reigns within and reigns Above. His Spirit is One Pure, White Dove. We're cleansed from ev'ry stain. Remember that in foolish sin, just selfishness, my past had been, but Hope for me this Christ did win, enduring all my pain. The Hope of God, my daily rest. Forever I will be so blest, my robe, His Own Great Righteousness, the Purchase of His Vein. by Jay O’Toole on September 22nd, 2020 |
Perfect Love removes all fear for the Lord resides in each heart, He holds so dear. There to e'er abide. Lordly Gift, His loving best on His chosen saints. Fear's removed through daily tests. His Love makes no complaints. The Spirit of the Lord Above has fear, that makes us clean, but resting in His greatest Love prevents the fear that's mean. (Psalm 19:9) Perfect Love is where we wait. We feel no torment there. Saving Grace is wondrous great It gives us no despair. The growing life of God's own child, the opposite of fear, releases power, love, sound mind, whose thinking is quite clear. by Jay O’Toole on September 21st, 2020 |
Oh, lean upon the Lord and wait in strength or weariness. Oh, lean upon the Lord and rest. In waiting, He will bless. Oh, lean upon the Lord, our God. He's ever at our side. Oh, lean upon the Lord this day, and near His heart abide. Oh, lean upon the Lord in peace to find a lasting Joy. Oh, lean upon the Lord, Whose Grace is all you need employ. Oh, lean upon the Lord, Who loves, and knows each trusting child. Oh, lean upon the Lord, Whose touch is meek and very mild. Oh, lean upon the Lord of Bliss, Who wipes each tear with a gentle kiss. To lean upon the Lord for this is His greatest gift to us. by Jay O’Toole on September 19th, 2020 |
Red begins each Christmas, first, Then secondly the green. Blue creates a three times thirst in salty water seen. Orange you glad four Mandarins we ate. Five lemons really squeezed. Six brown slices should abate the hunger, that us seized. Seven violet thoughts outgrabe, as indigo pursued. The eight grand fuschia men obeyed nine polka dots embued. Black as ten insanity seeks to trouble eleven more hues, But twelve the end each glazed one seeks. The colors have been used. by Jay O’Toole on September 18th, 2020 |
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