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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)    |
Granddaddy took the butt of a gun upon his forehead bare, and somehow lived to tell the tale, a metal disc placed there. Suspicious of a covered bridge, Pap slipped down 'neath his horse. The swishing of machetes affirmed he chose the sanest course. Pap rode up San Juan Hill, he said with Teddy in the lead. They won the victory that day. He lived to tell the deed. So many years ago he lived. I never got to meet my granddaddy of told exploits, to sit down at his feet. I just have Dad's accounts to tell. No facts can I confirm. His dates of life are close I know, like one great river's berm. Granddaddy died some twenty years before I came to Earth. I have just pictures and Dad's words, recalling his great worth. Whatever way he served and fought is truly good by me. He was a stone in that great wall we call Sweet Liberty. by Jay O’Toole on November 29th, 2024 Lines: 28   |
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