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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)    |
aromatic sweet helps a plant to hold the rain roaches run away by Jay O'Toole on October 13th, 2019 |
"Jesus loves me. This I know for the Bible tells me so. "Little ones to Him belong. They are weak, but He is strong." (Children's hymn. This is the first song I ever learned from memory.) ------------------------ "Jesus loves me! That's so great! He fills my heart to fill my plate! The Bible tells me He's the One, who's loved of God, the Only Son. "Jesus loves me! Childlike heart remains within my older part. Little ones to Him belong. Older ones retain the song. "Jesus loves me. This I know. My own body older grows. When I leave my life down here. Childhood songs I'll sing quite clear. "Little ones are weak at first, until they spin and run at burst. The end of life renews the child, who needs great care to stay awhile. "Jesus loves me, old or young. More to sing when once we've sung. The Bible helps me ever strong. Little ones to Him belong." by Jay O'Toole on October 12th, 2019 |
beautiful to see pollen’s harsh to those, who breathe wishing it some frost by Jay O'Toole on October 11th, 2019 |
Orange and cinnamon piping so hot calming the nerves with peace they forgot. Curling up small with a book of my choice molding my heart, again, to rejoice. Greenest of teas blest nutrient rich jangled by day, emotions to switch. Savoring, simmering, enlivening the nose. Sitting in silence new peace to propose. Oolong and white, great flavors to taste. Long were the challenges, troubles you faced. Comfy the chair, all pillowed and draped. Loosen the muscles, now rounder they're shaped. Hopeful the moments we spend with Earl Grey. He counsels our hearts with no words yet to say. Just sipping and swilling the vintage bouquet. I savor it long, make lasting the day. Great rooibos red, return we to you. How healthful your cup! How peaceful all through! Sweet or smokey aromas enjoying the time we spend in your presence, full of rest so sublime. by Jay O'Toole on October 10th, 2019 |
Crisp the breath of cool to come. Glistening skin feels joyful peace. Retreating days of golden sum advancing dark with cold release. Chilly nights bring warmest fires. Warmish days encourage work. Gentle cups of tea retire the weary sinews of the clerk. Gentle hues of red and green with blue and orange, purple, yellow enliven faces barely seen in friendly moments, soft and mellow. by Jay O'Toole on October 9th, 2019 |
| The child sits cow'ring in his room. The clothes are silent comforters. The dark his fortress or his tomb. The monster's dress reeks fruity stench. These days long past for grown man, numb bring tears to his eyes for what he would. A tender Mom in part and sum would joy in his strong confidence. Some fathers speak burnt, wrathful words invoking God's will when it's theirs. The joy of childhood flees as birds when hope of peace is seldom near. "A Dad, who sees me, whole I'd be," the thought I held in pictured words. "He'd lift me up and make me free" with everlasting, living hope. The fears of this month's brutish games are laughable in childhood's light. 'Mid all the ghouls and boos, whose aims are just to take home candy corn. Faux slivers cover concrete path to frighten children hunting treats, but emotional eggshells form the bath of truest terror through small souls. Enjoy your lightweight, "funny" fears, until full sugar coma dreams give way to ridicule of peers, who smirk at your askew face-paint mess. What joy remains to a child, who tries to keep his mother's happy mood? What fears without can gain the prize of a child, whose mother threatens him? An old man sits in his closet space to seek some peace from these bygone days. White Christmas lights his saving grace. The tomb protector holds her fast. The fears of ten months is the Why he cherishes soft Christmas tunes throughout the year for in days gone by the Christmas season brought him peace. by Jay O'Toole on October 8th, 2019 |
| (Original Verse) "For God so loved the world, that he gave His Only Begotten son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life." (John 3:16, KJV) "For God so loved the world he made, He gave His Only Son to save, that hope in Him now fully laid would negate death, give life to slave." For God Alone has pow'r to love the world in weakness cannot lift a finger up to save or move to know a moment of His Gift. For who believeth Him, who came to live and die as a Substitute? The belief of man is quite the same as a snake that slithers 'neath his boot. All hope we place on the coming Son is giv'n to each from the One, Who sent His Dearest Love, redemption's done, and hearts are changed, new way is bent. Salvation's wholly from The Lord in resurrection from the dead. He gives new life through the living Word, remaking hearts for whom He bled. We each are cold, unfeeling, lost, no heart for God, our spirits' dead. The joules of Grace will thaw the frost infusing new life with words now read. The chosen one may choose the Christ by the gift of sight, that newly sees. Eternal life by Blood-paid Price. The one once dead, alive He frees. The perfect life by Aslan's song was broken full by Jadis' choice. On the stony table right broke wrong when the deepest magic heard His Voice. Oh, hear His Voice when He gives ear! Fall full upon His pier-ced feet! Redeeming Love by God's Hands clear will save the soul, whose heart-door greets the knocking, pleading, calling Dear Whose beaten, brui-sed Body meets the chasm 'tween all wretched fear and Father, Who all Justice metes. Oh, weary soul, the Savior knows thy weakness and desire to come, but naught can come in sadness throes, whose works are meager in the sum. Thy power to save is not at all. Thy believing hope is weakness seen. Thy penitence and pleading call is awful black and never green. The key to Heaven is the Blood. God glories in the Son, Who gave His All restoring peaceful mood to Father's Justice o'er the grave. I cannot rest in my own faith, nor in my good by my own hand. Let me not swim, nor myself bathe in the pool of blood, where the cross did stand. In giving up. I'm fully whole. For one can't sink in the Dead Sea's salt, nor in Christ's Blood the strive-less soul, whose Savior ne'er can see his fault. I give myself not faithful ounce by which I trust His Wondrous Grace. The faith by which I do pronounce my trust in Him is by Him placed. My dead heart cannot see Him right. My dead heart cannot see at all. My dead heart lies in gurney's plight, transported by the Surgeon's Call. "I'll take your stony heart, Dear One. My scalpel fears not for its crust. The gnarly sinews when I'm done are vanquished and impeached as just. "A fleshy heart within your chest and spirit new I'll overwhelm. You'll enter in my peaceful rest and serve with me throughout my realm. "I choose to save, whom I will save. I need no help from human hands, but when my presence you newly crave, I'll welcome thankful works and plans. "I'll tune your heart to my true note, that when you play you need not ask, 'Is this my will or what God wrote?' We both agree about this task." ----------------- (Original Verse) "For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: "Not of works, lest any man should boast. "For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them." (Ephesians 2:8-10, KJV) ----------------- (Original Verse) "A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you: and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh. "And I will put my spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes, and ye shall keep my judgments, and do them." (Ezekiel 36:26-27, KJV) ----------------- (Original Verse) "There remaineth therefore a rest to the people of God. "For he that is entered into his rest, he also hath ceased from his own works, as God did from his." (Hebrews 4:9, KJV) ----------------- (Original Verse) "For it is God which worketh in you both to will and to do of his good pleasure." (Philippians 2:13, KJV) ----------------- by Jay O'Toole on October 7th, 2019 |
shocks of green and white clumping whole from middle out hardiness abounds by Jay O'Toole on October 6th, 2019 |
Our happiness is often fleeting through this gift of living days. It's hurriedness, that bears repeating, "Rest is gone with games and plays." "But isn't play now less productive?" worried businessmen may ask. "Contraire, dear one. 'Tis more constructive daily weariness 'mid task." The body limits weight it's lifting. Stops when rest is greater need. We're wise when using mental gifting breaks to play and breathe and read. I bless my heart and sow rejoicing when I sleep through weary days. I rest and silently I'm voicing Hope, that blows off mental haze. by Jay O'Toole on October 5th, 2019 |
hiding in the wings plants all sense its entrance near waiting remains hot by Jay O'Toole on October 4th, 2019 |
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