These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

The Last Light of 2024

Silhouetted trees of lines
mark the year's last day.
Memory, it oft repines,
not much left to say.

When the last of this great year
finds its blanket dark,
we must stop and think most clear
before the past doth park.

Pinkish clouds, some dusty dark
aloft float past my place.
Election lifts each soul to ark
by everlasting grace.

The last light of this year retreats,
and soon the Gentile's Time.
"Repent. Believe," doth oft repeat
The Bible's Word sublime.

The "lower lights" must now stand fast,
until the Rapture's Call.
The trumpet of the Lord will blast,
and then His Wrath must fall.

The Day of Jacob's Trouble's near,
great darkness at the blocks.
The trumpet is the whistle clear.
The runners race o'er rocks.

The year of ease, the Day of Grace,
of light, 'tis not much left.
Come quickly, Savior, to this place
or we shall be bereft.

"Goodbye, Dear 2024,
your gentleness is done.
Next light, we'll see a new before,
and rest in His Hope won."

by Jay O’Toole
on December 31st, 2024