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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 (Philippians 2:13, KJV) https://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/2876959.Charles_Haddon_Spurgeon    |
The catching of The Bride away will come just like a thief. With lanterns trimmed, plus oil obey, while others shake in grief. The winds of change, tornado gale, seems nothing, that we do can stop the path, that's sure to fail, until this day is through. In just a moment some will fly as others wonder, "What?" Salvation comes, new birthing's cry as Bible readers' taught. The transformation comes by choice, The Choice of God, Who saves. (John 6:44) When saved by Him the souls rejoice, no more in spirit graves. (John 6:37) The Trumpet's sound, the cry, "Come Up!" the saints are whisked away. The Table's set with Him to sup, it starts the lasting Day. by Jay O’Toole on March 8th, 2024   |
| The sun's eclipse on April eight, a sure omen? The curse of sin or Hope of days, that would be great? A giant X placed as a hex? What can we do to help the heart? Return to God to always laud. Obey this Lord with each new start. by Jay O’Toole on March 7th, 2024 |
| That some may cause to wonder, "Why?" brings sadness to my day. There are some, whose silent non-reply may cause the dark to stay. That some would make me stand in the rain, while doing what they will, becomes an awful mound of pain with holes in the heart to fill. But One will never leave adrift the one, whose heart is changed. In Hope, He gives new life to lift the soul, now, rearranged. The Son of God, born in a cave. is Truth, all through and through. He rose up from the stony grave to save us, me and you. by Jay O’Toole on March 6th, 2024 |
| Christmas Hope throughout this day comes in Jesus. He was born. God's blest Mercy on display. Peace is needed. Hearts are worn. Christmas Hope is Rapture's bliss. Once a Babe, now the Saving Lord. Bow the knee, His Hand to kiss, full Redemption in This Word. Christmas Hope forever whole. Trust The Truth. Upon It rest. Salvation is my always goal. By His Grace, I'm truly blest. by Jay O’Toole on March 5th, 2024 |
| They're always there, lurking in the wings, the times of life beyond today. How do we live to do our daily things when something waits upon us there to prey? Though nothing's really wrong right now, I sense something's ready to be wrong quite soon. The words I write I slightly mince to hope for grace and Mercy's boon. Great waters of the Flood increase as sinful Man pokes at his God. The dam of Mercy must release His Justice as a sea full rod. "The Days of Noah," God hath warned are days much like His soon Return. His Name is e'er adorned or scorned whe'er lived in folly or we learn. "God is not man, that He should lie, nor the son of man, that he should repent." He has now said. He shan't deny. In the Days of Judgment, shirts are rent. "Hath He said, and shall He not do it? Or hath He spoken, and shall He not make it good?" All HIStory's days are merely a bit, and the boasting's of Man are the burnings of wood. It's always there, lurking in the wings, the time of some great cosmic deed. How do we live to do our daily things when something vast in God's Word we read? by Jay O’Toole on March 4th, 2024 |
| Gray the clouds, and wet the ground, that starts our March this year. Gentleness seems to abound, relieving the need for fear. This coming in like a lamb concerns the going out of the same. Not sure we would have a great return, if a lion would start the frame. So, gentle rain we now do know, and what will be, unknown. The end of the month could cause us to bow, by harsher weather thrown. This March "comes in just like a lamb to go out like a lion." We pray the harshness will not slam our lives at saying's buy-in. by Jay O’Toole on March 1st, 2024 |
| I'd be so tired if I did the thing this day demands I do. For if I leaped up from my bed to rid my sleepiness, and kept on leaping all day through, I'd have no energy to quench my growing thirst, and sadness for my needed sleep would fully rest on me for when I'd wake for morrow's food, the day'd demand march first. Where went thee, furry rodent model, early in this month? I am repeating twenty-nine a-leaping as I go. You did not see your shadow on February two or oneth, but leaping I must on this day all long the day, I trow. Again, no have I energy to eat my food, nor quench my thirst, but somehow I must find my bed, and rest this me for when I'd wake for morrow's food, the day'd demand, "March First!" by Jay O’Toole on February 29th, 2024 |
| To have "a past," we often do. Its marks can cause us pain, but saving love when it is through brings life from which we gain. "A past" may stop us 'fore we start. What can I offer, yet? The thought, that breaks our very heart, weighed down by Life's regrets. "A past" can cause us back to shrink. No hope to leader be. How could I ever dare to think, that some would follow me? "A past" makes shadows bring us peace. We fade into the wall, and hope, that "unknown" days increase, before some "known" could fall. But One, Who had no past to hide can cover "past" with Blood to cause me Hope upon His Side, to call my life, now, good. The consequences of my "past" may bring me bitter tears, but One, Who is The First and Last will wipe them with my fears. My "past" will someday be forgot in His Forgetting Sea for I'm the sheep, that He has sought my weariness to free. by Jay O’Toole on February 28th, 2024 |
Resting in the afternoon, waiting for the eve when the workday comes so soon, cleanliness retrieve. Waiting for God's Own Dear Son through the quiet hours. "Peace of heart. The vict'ry's won, resting in His Bowers." Pansies' smiling, resting grace, stay where they must be. Nothing changes one sweet face. Ev'ry need's met free. Resting afternoon in peace, ever 'twill remain. Painful days will fin'lly cease, 'neath the lion's mane. by Jay O’Toole on February 27th, 2024 |
It seems to be we ne'er can win, while hiding in a room. Resolve may seem too oft quite thin, while quivering in that tomb. This hobbit-heart likes no conflict. He shuts the phone quite off when someone could debate or pick apart his latest coif. Obsequious is my first name from childhood through to now. If anyone would take the blame, 'twas me in servile bow. O, Bilbo, no adventures bless the living of thy days? It cannot be a worser mess outside thy room-ed bays. But snoring up the courage need to work outside the home Might make emotions chafe and bleed when forced to this far roam. "All peopled out," we then do haste to coffee shop abode, that Blond Café might soothe the taste, restore us to the road. Make haste, Dear Bilbo, find thy nook, and weave thy threads apace. Crochet a piece or read a book, and gather up some grace. Tomorrow morn 'twill need it then when going off to do thy needed tasks 'mid kith and kin, until thy strength is through. Each day return by lumbering gait to home, and hearth, and rest. The ramen noodles on thy plate with cup o' tea be blest. By out and in, and out and in thy week doth finally end. The two days giv'n thy soul should mend, that strength from God be giv'n. by Jay O’Toole on February 26th, 2024 |
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So beautifully written.
