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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)    |
Our Christmas tree has balls, that bounce. The doggy loves to sleep below, and when she rises steps announce, "Another limb, this, too, must go." Our lights are strung on outside limbs, on banisters, and inside halls. I'm searching for some synonyms, identifying what they're called. Just "Christmas lights" is what I use. Throughout the year their wondrous glow illuminates to great effuse away the darkness corners know. Some garland hangs. Its red and white makes happy all the crafting nook. The clings of white make snowmen bright upon the wall for smiling looks. Most decorations hang around throughout the year for the artist's joy. So many reasons still abound to justify their oft employ. by Jay O’Toole on December 20th, 2023   |
| Upon this day a week from now the Christmas songs are done. All wrapping paper's bagged I trow, and so's the festive fun. Let's wave right now to greet the day or it may pass us by without a notice of the way we laughed and played 'til sigh. Each store now shovels overstock right out the door. It's priced to move, that ev'ry shoe and sock will look both cheap and nice. The other side of Christmas leaves us full and slightly dazed. This breakneck pace all month it grieves the heart, unsolid, phased. It's back to work to pay for things we would not buy most weeks. What other day would make us sing, 'til rushing joints do creak. The "shoulds" do rule in wondrous clothes, and we feel burdened now. Oh, may we love and honor those, who see our love-filled brow. We show we worship Christ the best when ev'ry day is full of praise, that He endured each test, and draws us by His pull. The days without the season's joy are not without great bliss. In quiet moments we enjoy the Saving Lord in this. by Jay O’Toole on December 19th, 2023 |
| That cold is often icy-hard. 'Tis frightening to behold. Each day it comes doth test the bard his happy thoughts to hold. This cold makes all to seem most cruel, until it gives its place to warmer times, that seek to fuel the hope of better grace. That cold intimidates is real. It does so without guile. The shivers, that we oft do feel are there without denial. We'll face the cold with firm resolve to do the job as tasked. The way it's done will truly solve some questions Life has asked. The bitterness of cold is faced, completing one more day. The way we live will someday trace the words The Lord will say. The cold can push us back to the wall. Each hope through fingers slips, but listen for The Good Lord's call, before the ice, that trips. We face the cold, that causes doubts. We walk the wintry way, 'til warmth from Heaven turns about the heart from sad dismay. by Jay O’Toole on December 18th, 2023 |
| The music soars beyond the night, its hope restoring clearest sight. Each burdened heart, so weighed, forlorn in fetal ball, now prays for morn. This tune remains to make all right. Musicians play with all their might. Each perfect pitch must take its flight, or Band will finish Concert worn. The music soars. Conductor's hand, baton gives height to keep the music blest and tight. By regal thought of One it's borne. To greatness, they as one are sworn to make of sound the brightest light. The music soars. by Jay O’Toole on December 15th, 2023 |
Waiting for The Lord seems long touching deep within. When this life doth quench our song is there hope to win? Waiting for The Lord was hard for hearts so long ago. Prophets spoke to land so marred by Romans in the know. Waiting for The Lord was glad for shepherds in the field. Once, they'd been so greatly sad. Now, their hearts were healed. Waiting for the day of birth gave such great relief. Mary saw His lasting Worth. Gone was her pain so brief. Waiting now at Christmastime gives release to tears. Taken up at moment prime, chasing all our fears. Waiting through these darkening days, seeking warmth in the cold. Light of Life in his displays renders Hope most bold. Waiting day by day for Him keeps us looking up. Joy forever tops the brim of His loving cup. by Jay O’Toole on December 14th, 2023 |
Dark is time for working now, finish sleep in daylight hours. Spirit dips with head to bow. Life knows tastes, that are more sour. Find more sun in the outside room. Type your poem in warmth, that glows. Sunny disposition groom. Honor God, The One, Who knows. Days will not always be short. Nights will not in darkness rule. Rest for the sun doth bring a report of peaceful hope in days still cool. Christmas Day will bring an end to tussled, bustled nights more dim. Then, the days will start to send the sun our way, removing grim. Joy the nights of twinkled yule. Sit and breathe each sunny day. Word of God in the heart must rule. Trust the Truth in full display. Thank The Lord for working time. Thank The Lord for lights so bright. Praise Him still, while in your prime. Praise Him always for your sight. Sun will shine its earthly light. Son in brightness evermore. For His Bride, He'll banish Night. Bliss is His in lasting store. by Jay O’Toole on December 13th, 2023 |
The days throughout this month of bliss create in me great Hope's display. The Gift of He, Who came is this, Salvation's Grace beyond dismay. The Love of Christmas is fore'er. The Birth of Christ, the Lasting Bridge. Eternity that's free from care. His Dwelling Place, the Northern Ridge. The lower lights of twinkling white remind of upper lights through dark. The coldness of each wintry night reminds of Sin's most lasting mark. I love to find the childlike joy still living in this aging man. I'm blest, that love can still employ Evangel's Word of His Great Plan. The Love of Christmas let it be an ever-new, and lasting Gift, that quickened eyes forever see The One, Who from our sin doth lift. The Day of Christmas, God made Flesh. He's fully God and fully Man. The scene of ev'ry yard-placed creche helps boys and girls to understand. "Oh, help me Lord to embrace Truth, to see, that Jesus is the Way. The quickening Touch makes blest new youth, redeemed forever from that day." by Jay O’Toole on December 12th, 2023 |
Finding hope in Valley Dark, shorter days and all. Nights of Lights we must embark to hear the joyful call. Colder times make bundle warm the people where we live. Cheery faces take the form of those, who joy can give. Twinkling lights through lifting cause our hearts to see a way. Gentle nights know Santa Claus, who kneels before The Day. Nights of long dark peal the Truth, "The Light has come to save. He died upon the cross in His youth. He's Victor o'er the grave." Light of Life removes the dark in hearts, that He receives. Night must leave to disembark, replaced as Truth perceives. by Jay O’Toole on December 11th, 2023 |
| How many times I criticize the fact that I can't live perfection in The Savior's Eyes, best worship to him give. How many days are full of tears when weariness precludes some hoped-for goodness jumped by fears or dragged down by my moods? How often have the heavens seemed so closed to muddied prayers as the cloudy heart is that day deemed unworthy for its cares? Can this believer find his way through the Slough of Great Despond? Can one, who started, daily stay the upward Way upon? Whence cometh sadness when great Joy is in the Heart of Christ, Who lives in those by his Grace employ as One, Who paid the price? Believing days are not without the things we face down here, but Saving's Hope beyond all doubt is known when all's made clear. Oh weary eyes, so prone to look at ornery waves untoward, remember from The Blessed Book the Goodness of The Lord. The not possible is oft today, but wondrous is his Thought. The hoped-for time when it's okay is promised as we're taught. He cleans the cup through struggles rough in lives most blest Elect. His daily Grace is true, enough to make his Face reflect in the face of ev'ry blood-bought child, who's saved by His Great Plan, resulting in his Peace, so mild to help them live and stand. by Jay O’Toole on December 8th, 2023 |
| Light, glowing night away. Warm, gifting from the heart. Grace, showing how to smile. Joy, combating earthly ills. Stretch, removing lethargy. Make, giving with the hands. Commit, Christmasing through the year. by Jay O’Toole on December 7th, 2023 |
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So beautifully written.