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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)    |
Sliding gloves of plastic film upon these hands of ready digits to start, I make my rounds while bowing down to pick up paper, fruit, and shucks. Before two hours have airplaned past, propellers of the short and long are hands like mine as plastic bags do fit the bins for more treasured naught, and out the door to toss the old away in the dumpster. Come, whisk, all flushed to make clean pots, offensive stay they not very long of smell and sight. We spritz and wipe the cleaning mist to give hearts peace, "enthroned" in bliss. To "swab the deck" amid lemon plumes refreshed, to sweep the sidewalk of refuse free to vacuum carpets, making pristine faces of their threads, until the list is finished, and signed by a master's hand, completes the day. "A good and faithful servant" I have been. by Jay O’Toole on September 5th, 2023   |
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