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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 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   |
| The Lord can take a crusty Scrooge, and make "a good old man." The Lord can take a written dirge, and make a living plan. The Lord can take some stockings hung, then hope-filled we rejoice. The Lord can fill lungs with songs sung by making us His Choice. The Lord of Glory came to Earth, was laid in manger bed. Compelled He sons to lasting birth when on the cross was dead. The Gift He is from Mary's womb makes Him the most Unique. He laid the same when in the tomb, but now Choice sinners seek. The Lord so risen rules today, and will forevermore. May we toward him great blessings say, and thank him for his store. by Jay O’Toole on December 25th, 2023 |
| I pray this Christmas joy will stay around the year, not just today. Oh, may we find the words we say enlivening hearts the best. This wondrous season now must end to other months and seasons tend, until all of his seasons blend beyond this earthly test. These years of life are very few Th'Eternal Halls are through and through most blest by Christ, Who fully knew, we need our saving now. The Joys of Christmas can be ours through all our days and moments, hours, from dusty roads to the highest towers as before His Feet, we bow. Each Christmas carol wondrous sung is daily on the believer's tongue, 'til meaning has been fully wrung to take its place for aye. Our Christmas gifts are tokens at best since on The Savior, we must rest. For in His Grace, we're greatest blest, tomorrow as today. by Jay O’Toole on December 24th, 2023 |
| When the way is unsure, and the leadership's naught, 'tis our best to endure in the things truly taught. When the days are the tasks of the days gone before, when the things I've been asked make me do or ignore, I must honor, obey the One, Who is Lord in the things, that I say, and I read from his Word. When my hopes are on hold on the frozen day's path, I must do as I'm told 'til more freedom can laugh. One must wait for the Hand, that guides the True Way. And to follow his Plan is the surest of days. It won't always be dark when The Lord makes His Move. But for now, we must park lest his Justice reprove. Hope is found in The One, Who made Heaven and Earth. Rest your heart in the Son, Who makes sons by rebirth. by Jay O’Toole on December 22nd, 2023 |
| Ev'ry batch Mom made went fast. Peanuts were the first. Butterscotch morsels, second, Chow mein noodles, third. Glob on wax paper. Chill in fridge. WOW! by Jay O’Toole on December 21st, 2023 |
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 |
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So beautifully written.
