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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)    |
Lavender with fragrant blooms fills the countryside. Fields of purple, outdoor rooms place to live, abide. This purple robe doth clothe the ground. Its royalty now reigns. A kingdom in its peace abounds as sleep starts filling veins. The ones, who take care of this land reside in mansioned home. With sprigs of lavender in hand, they need no more to roam. by Jay O’Toole on July 25th, 2023  |
shining half exposed mirror in the sky has beams nightly shines the way by Jay O’Toole on July 24th, 2023 |
I'm waiting for the Lord to come. Whatever will we do? We'll praise His Name, the Wondrous Sum, and never we'll be through. The Lord will come so very soon to take His Bride away. We're ever blest in lasting boon. We live Th'eternal Day. Each day we pass on earthly sod is one day closer Home to live with Lordly, Saving God, Who rules upon His Throne. "O, make my life a faithful one, and help me serve You true, that when my days are fully done I'll have crowns to give to you." The Blessed Lord is never late, and early He is not. The HIStory of ev'ry date is right upon its spot. The Sovereign Lord can ne'er be moved to do as Man demands. His Way is honored, tried, and proved, fulfilling all His Plans. So, wait I daily occupied in tasks to serve Him here. When life is new and free from pride in peace we'll know no fear. by Jay O’Toole on July 22nd, 2023 |
Day at end, light doth blend into the night darkened rest can now tend to bodies that bear working's bite these hours at peace can put each body right. The greens and browns fade into silhouette display. We love the day but try with all our might the darkness fills these hours so tight. The little lights now rend the hold of fright. Heart will mend by Friend. Stay. by Jay O’Toole on July 21st, 2023 |
| A word is such a wondrous thing to write. A word with friends may bring to life a book. A recipe's a tasty, wordy bite. A word can make the reader stop to look. A word may sing with chorused words in rhyme. These words may spin and dance in rhythm rare. This poetry can lift to lands sublime to minister their words to those in care. A word can step on notes to make a song. Abundant words cantatas they may form. Apologizing words may right a wrong, and words so soft can still a heartfelt storm. A word with friends must bow the knee to One. The Word is God, Eternal Only Son. by Jay O’Toole on July 20th, 2023 |
The expectations for our lives are not always quite spoken clear. We're 'sposed to live and love, and thrive without a hint of lingering fear. But what of fear, that's caused at times by expectations oft implied. Some date of choice may come betimes before the needed thought's applied. When selfless giving burdens the heart beyond the resources we can give, the expectations are a part of the challenges in which we live. Life's expectations we must pause when time is needed just to breathe. We'll give, again, and bear the cause. The rested mind wears wisdom's wreath. by Jay O’Toole on July 19th, 2023 |
| The coolish eve of day's near past was eerie for the month, July. The chocolate peppermint repast brought forth a mood without reply. The cold could live but in my mind, while torrents came from sweaty pores. My thoughts of Christmas ever find their respite in remembered lores. What Joy on warm and hotter days! What dreams of air-conditioned "snow"! What Christmas moments on display! What silent peace 'mid Heat we know! What purpose could be possible to think of Christmas in this blast of Weather's large, and charging bull o'errunning Santa's lonely cast? A breath we need to quickly take to slow down. Make the best of this. Just pause and wait, an AC break. Enjoy a peppermint as bliss. A hot cocoa makes a joyful mouth in breezes cold as frosty days. A chocolate in the hottest South needs air-conditioned strong displays. This artificial Christmas cold survives in a room or smallish place, where twinkling lights with garland bold make moments warm, and heat erase. Each joy in this most cherished time recalls the simpler, colder swath of moments missed in summer's prime when bodies need a thinner cloth. As hotdogs cook you on the flame, this eerie sight doth call to mind the hearth and coziness the same in winter's den 'mid white so blind. Prompt for Christmas in July: "Peppermint, Chocolate, Cold, Eerie, Joy" Form: Quatrains of iambic tetrameter with abab rhyme scheme Lines: 36 by Jay O’Toole on July 18th, 2023 |
The music is the reason. The music makes the season. The music tells the story best. Through music we are often blest. With organ and piano, chimes, its music fills the best of times. The music of the church, it stops the need to search. Blest Christmas has its sound. The music's peace abounds. This Christmas music fills with joy the heart of ev'ry girl and boy. Th'affinity is not for all. This Christmas music love, its call. So give them needed place to show them honored grace. Each Christmas in July we smile. A moment's cool, that's not apace can break the heat a little while to make a restful, grace-filled space. by Jay O’Toole on July 17th, 2023 |
Hello, Out There! I'm glad you came, to read the words I write, I hope they are not yet the same, as others in your sight. I often write in verse, that's true, to spark the mind to thought, But sometimes prose is right to do, when something must be taught. That poetry is oft a maze, I stand amazed at view, But prose in words that are ablaze, will quickly share with you. by Jay O'Toole on July 14, 2016 ---------------------------------------------------------- Hello, Out There! These seven years have brought me joy to write. I hope my poems fall on ears, that learn of God's blest Light. I'm not averse to writing verse, since that Friday, the fourteenth, we've come around, again, no worse to Friday, the fourteenth. My poems are a daily thing. My prose two months a year to help your eyes begin to sing, and minds to think so clear. Now, when I write a shoehorned thought, it sounds a little odd. My honesty, right now, I hope may help you to applaud. My friendships here on WDC are better than the best of social websites, that I see, which put me to the test. I write to honor Christ, the Lord, but truly I do know, that He has blest me by His Word. He's making me to grow. Hello, Out There! I'm glad you came, to read the words I write, If they are better, yet the same, then I am writing right. by Jay O’Toole on July 14th, 2023 |
| Friends are faithful without ending. The friend is true. The rest are not. Our hopes are gifts we give and keep. Destination's life together. The friend is true. The rest are not. A cherished walk brings Friend along. The heart speaks plain in friendship's space. The dark is lighter with a friend. Our hopes are gifts we give and keep. The heartfelt hope is friendship's joy. We speak this meaningful aside to just one soul, our cherished friend. Destination's life together with each other in good or bad. Days for shining, nights for resting, the friend is here and we are blest. by Jay O’Toole on July 13th, 2023 |
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