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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    |
| Cold days go to sleep so fast. Nights are long, pressed in my soul. Twinkle lights make the craft room warm. Winter waiting for the sun takes time. "Come quickly, Lord. The Earth is cold." by Jay O’Toole on January 4th, 2024   |
| It's time to put away some things, that make the Christmas season bright. It's time to warm the heart, that sings since winter oft hath need of light. It's time to give The Lord first place through every day of this new year. It's time to share his Gift of Grace with those, who live a life of fear. It's time to be as called we are throughout each moment, month, and day. It's time to shine our light so far, that other souls would him obey. It's time to live what we believe, since th'years of Time are fading fast. It's time His Word to hold and cleave, thus knowing His Hold will e'er last. It's time to honor He, Who saves the one full dead in all his Sin. It's time to see He lifts from graves the spirits, that can't save, nor win. It's time to see He chooses some to saving Grace by His Dear Son. The ones He calls are they, who come by drawing Grace, that's ever done. It's time to see, that He preserves Elect ones by His Own blest Will. It's time to see, that he who serves can do so by The Lord's Dear Skill. It's time to put away the things, that keep us tied to earthly light. It's time to warm each heart, and sing since Time of Grace is always bright. by Jay O’Toole on January 3rd, 2024 |
| To focus on the good, that's come, the good, that is, the good, that's yet to be requires effort, strength, and some of what we hope, and what we've yet to see. The past has left its marks upon the face, that in the mirror frowns or smiles. The groaning body with its yawn finds refuge in the nap of daily whiles. Some poem words of scribed display. This writer prays the written word will bless. Some blankness cannot ever say emotions, that the heart would plainly stress. To fish for words in murky mind, What taffy-pulling is the thought to writ! Where is the hope to share if blind when struggling for some meaning wrapped with wit? by Jay O’Toole on January 2nd, 2024 |
| It's something new of something old. That's how a year is made. Each hope and day, that's truly bold was in Creation laid. The newness of the year's first day shows Earth's first day back when The Lord made all by words He'd say, so perfect without Sin. This year is fresh with days to write, and stories, yet untold. Each rough draft's crafted in the sight of He, Who plans do hold. Blest days of spring with life once more are blooms from what once died. The summer heat holds crops in store. Fall's harvest brings inside. 'Til this old year is laid to rest 'neath Time's cold, chilly ground. This baby's cries are truly blest as from Time's womb, unbound. In twelve months' time from babe to sage this year will come and go, and HIStory will add a page of words and deeds to know. Please tune my heart to bring You praise, Great Lord of Lasting Day, and cause more of th'Elect be raised. Our Debt You once did pay. by Jay O’Toole on January 1st, 2024 |
| The time has gone to not decide. The new year brings us to the place, where choices call us to abide in God's Great Wrath or in His Grace. One day when Time shall be no more, we then must stand before His Throne. Salvation's Call did oft implore and by His Hand transformed we've grown. But not all are of His Elect, for whom His Word hath meaning none. "Please, save by Grace with great effect those written in Your Book 'fore done. "Please, grant us peace, and wondrous health in this new year, that comes tonight. Please, help us know the greatest wealth is in Your Hands by given sight. "Make Wisdom our blest guiding friend, that days may come and go in Truth. Please, help us daily hurts to mend in Joy as that we knew in youth." by Jay O’Toole on December 31st, 2023 |
| "Don't grow weary." Do your good until Time stops. Day starts. Do good forever in His Presence. by Jay O’Toole on December 30th, 2023 |
| Waiting at the cusp, where the new year starts, seeing what was done 'fore the old one parts. Volatile can be chemicals toge'er. Truly can be days with emotions there. '24 can make good and bad become things we hope will be better for the sum. Start with winter's cold, still, the days are short. Careful what you say. Bless with no retort. Make us no more sick in Election's year. Finish what we start with a Truth that's clear. Bless the world with friends when the new year's done. Cause us live in Hope. Write the tale 'til gone. Jesus be The Lord, evermore today. Make me faithful to all Your Words obey. by Jay O’Toole on December 29th, 2023 |
| Pruning the canes, takes them to the ground. Dead limbs cut off. In the spring new growth brings back blest life. by Jay O’Toole on December 28th, 2023 |
Adrenaline's not needed now. The frantic pace has found its rest. Successful season takes its bow. A moment's pause shows we are blest. Each tear of thankfulness finds place upon the cheek of one made whole by waiting in this time of grace, reflecting on Life's next-made goal. The beat of days drives ever on, but in its raucous rim-shot sound we stretch our arms, emit a yawn, and thank The Lord for peace, new-found. Our birds have found a playful tune as squirrels chase 'round every branch. Some gentle plants through night and noon respond quite well in greenhouse "ranch." The cats find space to curl and sleep or preen their fur to better be. My dog, so close, can breathe and reap the benefits of fresh air free. These days, still short, cause me to sit in early hours before the dark. My mind, it waits with thoughts to knit to reach for every witty spark. The traffic din, a white noise makes as ticky-tack, the keys do fly. The curtain of the day o'ertakes as to the work I soon must hie. by Jay O’Toole on December 27th, 2023 |
| The curtain closes on the play of tree with presents, gifts, and such. The darkness fears the Light of Day, and cheers the closing curtain much. Yet, note the curtain of the room, most holy in the temple there. Salvation in the heart did bloom through the Master's Loving Care. Now, Christmas Day has come and gone. The world returns to its often norm. When will our lives see lasting Dawn, that lifts us from Earth's often storms? As the curtain closes, lights go up, while the orchestra still plays its tune. Please, share with me a gentle cup, until I hie my bed real soon. The new year comes when trudge we days, and months of working through the year. The calendar knows other plays before the new Christmas play shines clear. What doeth men without the Name of Christ to birth the greatest Self? Will ever man bear all his blame when Darkness puts him on the shelf? Nativity is still The Truth when the curtain closes on the Day. Obedient Jesus from His youth is still The Best of all to say. by Jay O’Toole on December 26th, 2023 |
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So beautifully written.
