We live much of life amid unique choices. Joy is anchored in The One beyond our life. |
βThere 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. . . .β β Charles Spurgeon βOur anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows, but only empties today of its strengths.β β C. H. Spurgeon βHope itself is like a star- not to be seen in the sunshine of prosperity, and only to be discovered in the night of adversity.β β Charles Haddon Spurgeon βIf 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.β β Charles Spurgeon βA Bible thatβs falling apart usually belongs to someone who isnβt.β β Charles Spurgeon βVisit many good books, but live in the Bible.β β Charles Spurgeon βWhen your will is God's will, you will have your will.β β Charles Spurgeon https://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/2876959.Charles_Haddon_Spurgeon (Philippians 2:13, KJV) |
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 OβToole on September 4th, 2024 |