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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)    |
| Quiet moments here to write from the depths of who I am. Summer day, so full and bright, greenest grass for restful lamb. Quiet moments salve a balm upon the weary, wand'ring soul. Gift of time, so wondrous calm is healing best to make us whole. Quiet moments thoughts respect, helping life where help we need. Keeping outward state in check, that the inward state be freed. Quiet moments, Heaven sent, giving peace to jangled nerves. Quiet moments are well spent with Jesus, Whom all honor serves. by Jay O’Toole on May 17th, 2023  |
| Coming down like daily clockwork, moving the soil to carve its cirque. Rainy sheets of waters flowing find their way to quench the world's thirst. The soil of life's ne'ermore the worst. The God of life, their life owing. Soliel reaches through the droplets weaving days so warm, and spotless. Goodly days our hearts now knowing. by Jay O’Toole on May 16th, 2023 |
| life begins when joined days of wet and hunger pangs some may hear us cry some may let us cry alone some may scream at us abuse self may shrivel up carbon copy of the strong who am I to be? another sees me hope of what I am returns frozen plants can grow hibiscus starts from the roots humans are by God restored all is lost, we think by His hand we have new hope Phoenix of the soul life on earth is mixed good with bad and bad with good things just don't make sense people hurt while giving help still the best will fin'lly come painful wrongs made right for the ones who place their trust in the living Lord life is good right now? sometimes, but not always true senseless pain occurs wait in hope, the living gift all will be made right, again in the time He plans trust that words of life still live demand them not now by Jay O’Toole on May 15th, 2023 |
Poems come 'most every day to lighten hearts and lift the mind. What happens when the words they say are absent or they're hard to find? We write about the thing we know, I want to write a poem, now, but I don't see the way to go, nor doth the subject 'fore me bow. So, write about the process, hard, which finds me stuck or blank in stare. The hope to be a someday bard can be a heavy writing care. Release demands to be the best, and write within the place you sit. For lack of subject is the test. The poem crafted helps a bit. The form is what we lately know. The subject comes as we do start. The poem shows as on we go with wisdom here to aye impart. The truth I here was wont to find presents itself in struggles known. I started writing grind by grind with ready fingers hopeful flown. Now, seven are the verses writ upon this blog post, I can see. The thoughts of good, now, wondrous fit to live in stalwart poetry. by Jay O’Toole on May 12th, 2023 |
| pansies need the shade caladiums need the sun ferns the shade and heat begonias smile through these days winter's gone and spring has flown Summer comes up north trees bring shade to Man and beast prepare for the ride by Jay O’Toole on May 11th, 2023 |
calling to a friend high the pitch that slices night echo speaks of hope by Jay O’Toole on May 10th, 2023 |
Red and white the garland flows through the craft place where I sit. Lights of color o'er it goes with joy to lighten wit. The flowers dry as upside down they stay beyond their day. Such memories can ne'er be a frown with honor, that they say. The threads of many colors wait to be used in a piece of clothing, scarf, or something great, that soon we will release. The music ready will be played upon the spinet's keys. Notation marks when best obeyed the song of heart, it frees. The paintings, that adorn the walls say, "God's Creation lives!" The human gifts, now hear His Call, and blessings service gives. by Jay O’Toole on May 9th, 2023 |
warmer days arrive tender plants fill out the yard time to find a breeze by Jay O’Toole on May 8th, 2023 |
O, why does it make me cry, remembering the season's love? The little boy just sits to sigh, while watching Christmas' flying doves. An aging man still wonders where the hope of childhood flies away. The window's yard, now makes me stare as years of life fill ev'ry day. Salvation's hope, it lingers near, but sadness clouds the weary mind. Can Christmas peace be newly clear, while my "little boy" needs words so kind? All therapy requires some time. The darkness grows before the Light. My Christmas place, an uphill climb, will welcome me with greater sight. by Jay O’Toole on May 5th, 2023 Reference cue: "Where Are You, Christmas?" (The song from How The Grinch Stole Christmas) |
The Rise of Man in all of Earth is said to be by chance, but how can chance create each birth, predicted in advance? How do I know the life, that comes is known by Some Blest Mind? How do you know, that living sums are made of chance so blind? No proof have we, that chance or God has brought us here, today, but "In the end, we'll all applaud the Truth, that wins," we say. It's faith, that proves our points so grand to ev'ry human mind. It's pride, that has all others banned by hearts not very kind. So, hold your thought, that chance creates. I'll never be afraid, for it's not sure on any dates what sperm and egg have made. But if the God, Who made us all has anything to say, then when His summons is our call, we'll go to Him that day. Prepare your heart to meet the One, Whose Life has made you live. He'll give you to His Living Son by His Mercy to forgive. by Jay O’Toole on May 4th, 2023 |
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