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Rated: E · Book · Personal · #2172808
We live much of life amid unique choices. Joy is anchored in The One beyond our life.
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)

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May 31, 2024 at 4:00pm
May 31, 2024 at 4:00pm
#1071949
Threads of crafts, and threads of thoughts,
Threads of life forevermore,
Threads of wisdom we've been taught,
Threads of future days before.

Colors wrapped toge'er we find
things now joined in crafts new made.
Clasping hands with friends is kind.
Daily deeds t'ward God obeyed.

Threads are joined in mem'ry hoop,
like the thoughts of threaded past.
Threaded deeds, the lifelong troupe
Threaded plays, Forever's cast.


by Jay O’Toole
on May 31st, 2024


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2023 Quill Finalist
May 30, 2024 at 10:45pm
May 30, 2024 at 10:45pm
#1071920
When I'm sad a cup of tea,
and poetry makes well.
Writing seems the heart to free
in chosen words, that tell.

When I'm sad, it seems I've lost,
that good will never win,
but when I think "He paid the cost,"
I'm ne'ermore bound by sin.

When some bully overrides
the plans I had, today,
sadness now can make me hide
to sleep before I play.

When I'm sad I need to write,
restoring strong my voice.
Joy in Christ, my strongest might,
firm must be my choice.

When I'm sad my doubts begin.
I wonder where my words can start.
"Will I ever write, again?
Will He ever heal my heart?"


When I'm sad, I must needs stop,
and catch my breath posthaste.
Gladness, now, is not on top,
and far from my first taste.

When I'm sad, a cup of tea,
alone or with a friend,
'sreally a great need for me
to start my day to mend.


by Jay O’Toole
on May 30th, 2024


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2023 Quill Finalist
May 29, 2024 at 9:08pm
May 29, 2024 at 9:08pm
#1071872
The years of life are flying by.
We ponder through the past.
So, what was good, of word or try,
that ever will yet last?

The days of childhood, playfully
were times of joyful bliss.
The hope of life so big and free
knew Momma's peaceful kiss.

Each teenage year was quite the thing.
The sweetest love refused.
It stopped the heart's first try to sing,
but only ego bruised.

The adult years in many ways
were times for growing strong.
Careers a-plenty on display
to find where we belong.

A senior cleans the floors, lifts trash,
to make the place look good,
completing well the lifelong dash
to honor God as would.


by Jay O’Toole
on May 29th, 2024


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2023 Quill Finalist
May 28, 2024 at 8:33pm
May 28, 2024 at 8:33pm
#1071823
Gentle lights adorn the porch,
remind of Christmas nights.
Late the days 'mid humid torch
hope in colors bright.

Gentle lights or brightest day
Christ will come again.
All His Glory on display,
Victor o'er my sin.

Gentle lights shine wondrous when
Earth tromps into dark.
Jesus died for chosen men,
Elect for lasting Ark.

Gentle lights as sunset dims
put the yard to bed.
Sweet the cup of blessing brims
into the night we're led.

Gentle lights adorn this life,
remind of life with Him
when all Earth's distress, and strife
ceases for His Hymn.


by Jay O’Toole
on May 28th, 2024


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2023 Quill Finalist
May 27, 2024 at 6:34pm
May 27, 2024 at 6:34pm
#1071781
steamy through the day
happiness for southern leaves
mockingbirds now fly


by Jay O’Toole
on May 27th, 2024


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May 24, 2024 at 1:36pm
May 24, 2024 at 1:36pm
#1071635
standing stalwart high
lot of life that's over now
waiting for its rest


by Jay O’Toole
on May 24th, 2024


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2023 Quill Finalist
May 23, 2024 at 6:46pm
May 23, 2024 at 6:46pm
#1071600
Writing from my youth
expresses my heart.

Sometimes sensible and wise,
poetry brings growth.

Other days in jest
poetry brings relief.

When blank the mind,
poetry is silent.

Depression ravages the heart.
Poetry salves balm.

Money pays the bills.
Verse makes life.

The past may taunt.
Poetry gives hope.

Life may seem meager.
Poetry lifts it.

Not adverse to verse,
smiles save youth.

Rhythm's rhyme each day
makes it well.


by Jay O’Toole
on May 23rd, 2024


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2023 Quill Finalist
May 22, 2024 at 8:28pm
May 22, 2024 at 8:28pm
#1071539
Gentle evening writing pros,
yet the prose don't often come.
Poetry, it rhymes of those,
who write the words in part and sum.

Writest thou the poems, now
when sun doth hie, and swift away?
Makes, thee, Burns to come and bow
before thy lilting to obey?

Rhyme and rhythm e'er the Bard
accosts thy foolishness and mirth.
Poetry of breath or lard,
hopeful thoughts or light of worth.

Lightly singst thy gift of wit?
Lightly writ before 'tis o'er?
Lightly laughs this latest bit
for poem's gone when could be more.


by Jay O’Toole
on May 22nd, 2024


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2023 Quill Finalist
May 21, 2024 at 8:09pm
May 21, 2024 at 8:09pm
#1071498
Streaks of gold across the green,
a trunk as a lightbulb in the sky.
Nandina splayed as yellow-green.
The moment's frozen as we sigh.

Sasanquas painted yellow gold
their mirrored glory ends the day.
Buddleia stands up mauvish bold,
Nandina whites in broad display.

The underside of pecan limbs
were bright, but now they're forest green.
The sun bespeckles leafy slim
as the glow becomes the gray still seen.

A spider on its filament thread
swings deftly on the fan wind blown.
The day is ending. Darkness dread
we hope throughout 'til morning's shown.


by Jay O’Toole
on May 21st, 2024


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2023 Quill Finalist
May 20, 2024 at 11:34pm
May 20, 2024 at 11:34pm
#1071451
T: Humans are broken to the core.
We're dead in trespasses and sins.
Our spirits can't arise before
The Lord of Glory life amends.

U: For at the Founding of the Earth,
the Lord has chosen all He saves.
His Hands create Elect new birth,
redeeming spirits from their graves.

L: Th'Atonement is for those He saves
to limit cost upon Him laid.
Through bles-sed Blood, they're no more slaves.
His Greatest Gift is finished, weighed.

I: Rebellious humans at the heart
are fashioned into wanting Him.
The Tuner's Fork creates the start.
Once bitter-spoke, now worship's hymn.

P: When saved, redeemed, and from Hell free,
th'Elect is never lost again.
Now hid in Wings, that Christ we see.
Fore'er Messiah, He did win.


by Jay O’Toole
on May 20th, 2024


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