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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)    |
Jade is twenty-one, you see, time to drink or not. Happy now to be so free when drinking, there’s “forgot.” Jade is twenty-one, what else? The big Adult adult. No one can look down on her age. In this, we will exult. This Jade is twenty-one fore’er, until she’s twenty two, but age we quickly over there, until The Lord says, “Through.” Jade is twenty-one, of truth? My baby, yesterday. This growing lady from her youth doth love to sing and play! Jade is twenty-one, I know. I’m older it doth seem. I’m proud of she, whose beauty grows. She’s in my eyes the gleam. Jade is twenty-one, today, that little child no more, but as she grows to Christ obey, “I’m joyful in His store.” Jade is twenty-one, I’m glad. We are truly blest. When she steps out, I’ll be sad, but glad I did invest. by Jay O’Toole on September 13th, 2024   |
Turning twenty-one, you see, time to drink or not. Happy now to be so free when drinking, there’s “forgot.” Turning twenty-one, what else? The big Adult adult. No one can look down on this age, and here we will exult. This person's twenty-one fore’er, until they're twenty two, but age we quickly over there, until The Lord says, “Through.” Turning twenty-one, of truth? My baby, yesterday. This growing wonder from their youth doth love to sing and play! Turning twenty-one, I know. I’m older it doth seem. I’m proud of thee, whose beauty grows. Thus in my eyes the gleam. Turning twenty-one, today, that little child no more, but as you grow do Christ obey, “I’m joyful in His store.” Turning twenty-one, I’m glad. We are truly blest. When you step out, I’ll be sad, but glad I did invest. by Jay O’Toole on September 12th, 2024 |
Dainty threads upon the cloth. Trace a coffee cup or tea. Make a butterfly or moth. Give us something sweet to see. Dainty threads, embroidered gift to give to youth, who marry soon. Hopeful colors, hearts to lift 'fore they leave for the honeymoon. Dainty threads of needlepoint to leave the gift of part of me. Newest home to aye anoint, evermore in union be. Dainty threads a peaceful craft to lighten the heart, and rest the mind. Some day soon all joy, that laughed will pat the back in friendship kind. by Jay O’Toole on September 11th, 2024 |
His Face is like the sun in space. His Heart is liquid Joy. His Justice burns up all disgrace. He's pure without alloy. (Psalm 91:1-4) The feathers of His covering wings enclose His little child. His Voice, a harp, that daily sings, His Hands, so wondrous mild. The rough-hewn cross upon His Back He wore to pay my debt. The monster cave no torturous lack could His Blest Rising let. (Romans 10:9-10; John 6:37,44) The ring of His Salvation's oath is worn forevermore upon the finger, each day's growth of the Bride His Call implored. Secured by stalwart giant reach, redeemed by saving hands, thus kept by He, Whose Voice doth teach His daily Master Plan. by Jay O’Toole on September 10th, 2024 |
All the lights in readiness, decorations wait, Christmas Day will come to bless those, who find it great. Some day when The Lord returns we will celebrate. Will we see a table, wick, that burns, Christ with lasting Mate? Will we Christmas ever know in that Heavenly land? Will the Joy in Christ e'er grow as from the first he planned? Christmas is my favorite time. Will it be fore'er? Will the lights and notes, that chime keep us children there? by Jay O’Toole on September 9th, 2024 |
The days were sweet and childlike then when with our Peek-a-Poo a mall would be a place to stop and win a shopping trip for one and all. The hill was filled snow to ride in my own saucer sled so fast. The end was safe, but could have died, so on that hill that trip was last. The cozy room was warm and sweet. The snow outside climbed up our wall. Then Christmas was a wondrous treat, except when sidewalks made me fall. I knew, that Santa Claus would come. I'd seen the presents all before. The toy-played moments, joyful some, but sadness came when gifts were o'er. The wondrous tree of lights and smells brought hope to these long darkened days. The ornaments of balls and bells were treasured all our holidays. by Jay O’Toole on September 7th, 2024 |
So many things are tools to use, while some are within the heart, the courage, that our words infuse, the hope, that we impart. Some crafts we make are just for smiles upon each loving face to lift a heart in gentle whiles to offer needed grace. A necklace may not be the thing, that this friend needs to see, but sitting quietly may bring release the heart to free. A coffee cup or tea to sip with muffin or a scone, a tissue for some tears, that slip. These say, "We're not alone." So much of life brings fear these days, but God won't author this. Salvation in His best displays can save the soul to bliss. In Jesus Christ, we find our peace, His Best from all we've lost. From condemnation, His release, since Jesus paid the cost. The tools we have, that help our friends are tools from God Above, Whose help for us in many sins is given in His Love. by Jay O’Toole on September 6th, 2024 |
The times of life are finite days, but evermore we'll live. We walk each step in all our ways with much of self to give. These living ways are from The Lord to gift our fellowman. "God grant us to obey Your Word, and do by Your Best Plan." All ways we live our lives throughout must be of God's Own Will, that when we die there'd be no doubt, each purpose we fulfill. But what of errant earthly steps is all of good for naught? Have we destroyed the hoped-for next, and all of God we're taught? The living ways are by His Grace made new forevermore. In Heaven, there is one blest place through Jesus, The Blest Door. by Jay O’Toole on September 5th, 2024 |
Weaving words, like weaving threads, is pleasant for the mind. Knowing words touch many heads is quite a joy, so kind. Weaving threads, like gentle words, is tactile for the heart. Nourishing like dairy herds, wholeness has its start. Losing words, like threads, that fall, a numbness can set in. Sitting, staring, thoughts, that call, a hope we need to win. Falling threads, like words, unspoke, depression as a cloth fills the writer's heart to choke; this sadness, fully wroth. Weaving words as threads now bound restore the human core. Joyful moments, newly found, depression on the floor. Weaving threads are words of sight, with hopes to fully lift, beating back the inner night becomes this moment's gift. Weaving words as threads of Truth, gives Glory to The Christ. Regeneration from my youth was bought at Jesus' Price. Weaving threads of words, that last. This Joy forevermore, His Gift, that washes all my past to lead me through The Door. by Jay O’Toole on September 4th, 2024 |
What a gift is life! We travel through our days, and find that what will come is glorious always! This life, that is our gift, is given by The Lord. Our voice from our first cry was written in His Word. What a gift is life! We're chosen by His Will to serve Him in these days, and ever serve Him still. This life, that is our gift, is all as he decides. We think we choose our path, but His Lone Path abides. What a gift is life! 'Twas won upon His Cross. The second birth's required without it there is loss. This life, that is our gift, His Mercy is supreme. If we would always live, He chooses to redeem. What a gift is life! If you desire the best, then pray compassion's choice would make you ever blest. by Jay O’Toole on September 3rd, 2024 |
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