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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)    |
after winter, blooms seeds mature, and crops are gained cycling for the earth by Jay O’Toole on June 30th, 2022 |
So many years ago they wed to start a life of bliss. Though anger turned their faces red, they'd soon make-up and kiss. The storybook was never theirs? Those tales are ne'er the best. They loved and sometimes "put on airs," but honest words were blest. They brought two sons into the world to serve Christ through each day. God's Word they all as a flag unfurled is preached in all they say. My Dad and Mom they breathed their last, and now before the Throne they worship Christ both longed to know through life's oft creaks and groans. Await they do their sons to come with family all in tow when e'er they'll know the part and sum of seeds, the Lord did sow. word count: 126 line count: 20 the prompt: Topic #1 - Please pick a Holiday or Occasion from the country you are from this month and write a poem about it. by Jay O’Toole on June 29th, 2022 |
keeping safe from much over-bright will cause its end humid, gentle light by Jay O’Toole on June 28th, 2022 |
through soft shade it shines late day sun laminates leaves sunset cuddles elm by Jay O’Toole on June 27th, 2022 |
really not so tame fine line lived 'tween man and beast only God controls by Jay O’Toole on June 26th, 2022 |
The things we hold so dear to the heart are cherished e'er and e'er. These treasures may have known a start, fore'er they're blessed with care. Sometimes they wane in Society's mind, though they are held quite dear to humans, who don't change or find a new thought just as clear. These strong-held truths are always true for popularity means little to the ones, who do the right, and seek for Thee. by Jay O’Toole on June 24th, 2022 |
| Life, wordless whole, searching for my heart. Fitting in seems hard to do. Called. by Jay O’Toole on June 23rd, 2022 |
He preached of Christ throughout his days from when Salvation touched his heart. He could not let the subject lay, until he knew he'd done his part. He took me to the church the week, that I was born and drew my first breath. He wanted me this Christ to seek, and be blessed through Life's Door of Death. "For God so loved this whole wide world, that gave He did His Only Son, that whoso trusted this flag, unfurled, would never die, but that soul'd be won." "For Jesus loves me. This I know. The Blessed Bible tells me so." The little ones now sing this song to learn the Truth, and shun the wrong. Dad taught me, that John 3:16 could point to Christ, Who'd save my soul, and "Jesus Loves Me" filled my heart's screen. I'd sing its words, by Him made whole. He'd preach the Truth each Sunday same, and live each day to teach The Word. When six years old the Savior came to harvest Truth so often heard. He worked assorted other jobs a teacher, and a salesman, too, but though he turned these other knobs Salvation's message burned still true. His focus was forever far, "The souls of Earth must know this Christ." The day, he died with life on par 'twas known he'd spoke of saving's price. This deed was learned some days, then hence, as my brother comforted our Mom. A funeral dress was needed whence, they shopped, and tidings they spoke there some. The clerk, who helped Mom find her dress was wife to the man Dad preached his last for in their home, he'd hoped to bless the man the Gift, then gone the past. He preached to me throughout our lives from my first cry, 'til his last breath. Now, preaching is my daily drive, until I close my eyes in death. I did not learn much about cars, but fishing, and to mow the yard, these things he taught, and those by far, that living life 'twouldn't be so hard. Dad showed me Life is breathed and gone. Eternity is where we live. What matters are the lives Christ won through the seeds we've sown in the words we give. To preach it now is the baton he passed. For souls, I pray, "Become redeemed." This Truth received will ever last. His Life is salvation more than we dreamed. Prompt 2: Do you know what kinds of jobs your ancestors did? Were they rich or poor? Were they descended from royalty and born into luxury, or did they struggle to make a living? Did this career pass from father to son, from generation to generation? Are you still doing it now? by Jay O’Toole on June 22nd, 2022 |
This golf is not a rowdy game where teenage boys can run and play, while other boys, they do the same projecting balls, that do dismay. This golf is such a thinking feat, where math, and strength, and focus meet. To land a drive is joy replete. To putt, and drop we'd oft repeat. Yet, in my youth the football field became our driving range one day. It joy and mirth, but danger yield with foolishness on full display. One group went first, while watched I rapt. Some moments later wood met ball, then off I ran, its sight I kept when hairs-on-end my attention called. Apparently, a boy had found the ball he drove and drove from there. The narrow miss God's Grace abound. Today, I live without that care. Great wisdom need we when we play with golf ball flying through the air. Address it well, and live a new day. Make golfer, watcher, all aware. Prepare to swing, and cry thee, "Fore!" when errant souls thy fairway tred. For mirthful boy might live no more with a golf ball smacked upside his head. by Jay O’Toole on June 21st, 2022 |
The passages of Time, replete, are filled with wondrous joys to live with hopeful moment gifts to give as friendship's loving, daily treat, the passages of Time, replete. Some coffee or tea and food to thrive make comforting moments blest, we strive. This living with friends each day, repeat, These passages are of Time, replete. To give our all the depths we dive the betterment of Man, our drive. Each need of others dare to meet the passages of Time, replete. In twists and turns, we dance and jive, our tetrazzini mixed with chive. All hopeful morns we smile to greet the passages of Time, replete. Quite trippingly ev'ry tongue's alive the faux pas of life we must forgive. How wondrous a party on the street The passages are of Time, replete. Each jaunty toe will Sad deprive. Each heart with wonder we'll revive. Each cup of tea will be most sweet with passages of Time, replete. by Jay O’Toole on June 20th, 2022 |
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