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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)    |
I cry about the loss of friends, and family, and all. I cry to be with them, again, with all on Whom Christ call. I cry about the days of yore when we would often play, would go to shop through many stores, while living day to day. I cry about the light, that seeps through black, stick, fading trees. The last of life on Earth, it creeps, until the New Day sees. I cry about the time I wait, until I see anew the names attached to the word, "late" when grieving days are through. The star above, a steady point, that shines in the night sky. The Christ, The Light, that God anoints forever, by and by. I cry about the ones, now gone, I know not their last state. Were they full told about The Son, before it was too late? I cry for joy about the souls, who know the One, Who saves. I thank Him, that they're fully whole, beyond the loamy grave. I cry for hope in big, wet tears, that someday all the pain will leave with all my earthly fears as Heaven's portals gain. by Jay O’Toole on February 7th, 2025   |
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