%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |    We live much of life amid unique choices. Joy is anchored in The One beyond our life. |
|
“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)    |
Patchwork words form the poetry of my heart. Slivers of peppermint coat letters galore. Cotton candy falls to the ground, rains start as steaks of hope are carved to make us more. Orange juice seeps from the breakfast orb illuminating blooms as glory lights. Poetry, it anchors near the shore to paddle in and kiss the diamonds bright. Aroma wafts from coffee's flaming mug. Verse by verse I nibble cookie rhymes. Gentle thoughts on chocolate syrup tug to build my poem with great spices prime. "Dance, ye rhythms, 'pon some quatrain's milk, then dive within the pool of wordy foam. Make the bliss of thought from smoothest silk to carry me in tasty dreams of home." My poetry can be the grandest cake, or be so bland at times we chew it not, but when the senses rise to fully bake the new things learned are tastebuds wondrous taught. by Jay O’Toole on January 12th, 2023 |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
