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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)    |
Rememb'ring those, who worthy lived to save this godly land, we call to mind the ways revived they hope to ever stand. These ones, who left their earthly all upon the battlefield had answered once, great Freedom's Call. To honor Life, they'd yield. They gave their oath to fight our foes, domestic and abroad, until someone need tag their toes, whose souls, then stood 'fore God. In these long days, that theirs besmudge, we need them here, again, to help defeat lost minds and judge these cockles filled with sin. They gave their all, but we give what? They lived and died, so blest, but do we live yet half of that, surmounting smallest test? "Providing for the common defense" these stalwart men and maids, "securing Liberty" convinced by final courage laid. https://www.archives.gov/founding-docs/constitution-transcript "Now, we the people of this land, United States, we're sure in order, that they'd understand." The fight we long endured. "We joined toge'er more perfectly, established Justice best, insured our homes' tranquility," and met each daily test. "Provided we a joint defense, promoted good for all, secured our Freedom without wince, so blest by Future's Call." "We liberated self, and souls within our earthly care, ordaining this great document, whole, to get from here to there." "The Constitution of the States, United in our land, establish we on every plate, America, the grand." https://www.archives.gov/founding-docs/constitution-transcript "We paid for Freedom with our lives. Remember on this day. This gift is yours. Forever thrive. Protect it as you may." ----------------------------------- We WILL always remember. Blessed Memorial Day 2021 by Jay O’Toole on May 31st, 2021 |
The Deep it calls to deeper go. My mind has thrills it thrills to know. Each heart enjoys as mysteries grow. Where can we ever be? The warmest place we e'er can be is blanketed with thoughts, that see, a soul we greet with hopes to free, but how can it be so? I've never known this ever place, that swallows me, so filled with grace. It beckons me, "This new one chase." unknown, yet ever found. Through deepest wonder more abound, we'll climb the heights, and then we're crowned. In silence hear the faintest sound, and meet it face to face. How colorful this rainbow fair! I slide the side, then plop and stare. Invites me, "Ride," this pinkish mare. Away we gallop, twain. Bareback I grasped her tousled mane. Through miles and miles of dust, then rain, I move the caking quite in vain to see as I might dare. A bonny lass, then beckoned, "Come. Dismount, and tell me all the sum of days and nights, that life be plumb within His gracious Plan." I sat alone beside the fan when all at once it quick began. My logic I assayed to ban. My mouth I clasped as dumb. She kissed my cheek, then on my way, return I would to her some day as in adventure, new, I'd say, "You make my life so grand." I fell asleep. I could not stand. Adventures fell out of my hand, but dream I did of that fair land. My heart bid mind, "Obey." Line Count: 40 Word Count: 255 by Jay O’Toole on May 28th, 2021 |
Poems give a place to rest from the daily work and stress. Poems give the heart a lift from the weight, a daily gift. Poems flow with each heartbeat It's candytuft and tasteful treat. A poem is hopefulness enthroned, easing pain of life bemoaned. Poems speak of inner stuff, easing days when life is rough. Poems help us yet to pause, reflecting on the greatest cause. by Jay O’Toole on May 27th, 2021 |
This life is full of ups and downs, the hope, that soon we'd win. Sometimes we play the normal rounds with energy quite thin. We press along to win the goal when soon we realize, the finish line's beyond the knoll not seen yet 'fore the prize. The carrot's always out-of-reach, the time to rest ne'er comes, but earthly days are times, that teach us wisdom, parts, and sums. The Lord is worth our sacrifice for things, we must give up, are just a pittance, not the price. He drank the bitter cup. The death of dreams will see His Hands renew and resurrect, each gift we have now by His Plans, transformed, and all bedecked. The finish line is what He chooses for each soul alive. Unique the days He molds and uses, making us to thrive. For some, it is a century great lauded by all men. For some, responsibility is hidden in a glen. For some, the days of life are few. For some, they're really hard. Of some, we're grateful that we knew. Each wise one is a bard. Some seem to have more than their share of troubles day by day, but when they're spoke by him o'er there, What glory on display! Some struggle just to find success in life a time or two, but then we'll see how they were blest when breathing's Day is through. The hidden plants of shadows deep seem worthless at the first, but great the moisture they do keep. For gloried plants they slate thirst. The finish line is never moved, but we don't equal see. The Wisdom of the Lord is proved in choosing liberally. The one, who works at end of Day, one hour is his task. He's paid the same as those obeying all the Day as asked. Do fault we God, Who chooses days as He in Wisdom plans? Do we dare question what he says, since we don't understand? Do we in pride dare think we know He has no right to choose the ones to bless in glory show, and how He us may use? So, where'd they move the finish line? No "they" in this be known for God did choose the final sign. His Glory 'twould be grown. The finish line in the life of each is known by just the Lord. We live each day and souls beseech, "Bow down to God, The Word." by Jay O’Toole on May 26th, 2021 |
My days are spent much like a hen. I search and search and search for food. I find some bench to sleep, again, and wake when others cry I'm "rude." I was a man of business, then, with others doting on my words, a lifetime past, 'twas way back when, but fortunes migrate with the birds. So, now I'm seen as "He, who scams" just playing hearts like violins. I live each day on meager grams of food and scraps, that jeer my sins. Yet, were these sins just mine alone, and not some choices out-of-hand? I would not wander, sniffle, moan, if I could find a lasting plan. I wish I knew how I could change my circumstance, and find a new road, but who will help me rearrange my life to find a true abode? A homeless man, I sit and wait. "Don't ever look at others' eyes. for they'd despise me, loath, and hate. They'd think my pleas are scammer's lies." Is there Someone, Who can give love to someone like me on the street? Can I be saved and live Above? Is Calvary a good soul's treat? by Jay O’Toole on May 25th, 2021 |
When I worship from the heart, so many times it melts to pour through these eyes falling down with not much left to tell. These cleansing tears of "Lord, You're All! You mean the world to me!" I want His Hand throughout my life, that His Face all will see. Each tearful stream upon my cheek, begins with this to say, "The Lord means all the world to me." By Grace I will obey. by Jay O’Toole on May 24th, 2021 |
I know it's time to write a thought, although you could have writ it. That's what the teacher thought she taught, though participles split it. We have the right to make it known through writing rules or dangles. Just tippy tap laptop keys or phone so sweetly said or in jangles. Express it fast or speak it slow, but don't be ever pokey or celebration food we know is overcooked and smokey. Now, praise we all these writer's words on holidays invented. Well-written or just "for the birds," there's joy in the demented. ------------------------------------- Happy Write Right Rights Day! Established July 7th, 1934, unbeknownst to anybody but me. (0.7734 on old calculators reads, "hello" when you turn the calculator upside down. Gotta write it right.).  ------------------------------------- by Jay O’Toole on May 21st, 2021 |
A cup of tea sounds really good. A quiet night the best. Reflections in a saddened mood mean the body needs some rest. The dark of night rains tears sometimes. The light cannot be found. To Joy in life an uphill climb transforms, and the heart abounds. Each silence in my day sounds mean, but really is it so? The heart, alone, can be made clean. The Lord to fully know. Each tearful grief can wash the soul, renew the blankened mind, that when it's done, again I'm whole, caressed by Hand Divine. by Jay O’Toole on May 20th, 2021 |
Great gifts God made when He made you and me. Each brokenness creates mosaic rare. These days of life are tools eternally, creating lasting portraits over there. Each pain may seem as refuse, that is gone. So lost the days when none could bring us aid, but ev'ry day the Lord has given dawn to show us Hope for we have Christ obeyed. O, when will Christ return to take us Home for days down here seem awful and unkind. Offenses may be filling up a tome, but weapons formed against us God will bind. (Isaiah 54:17) The picture now's a shadow, yet unseen to free us from ourselves, emotions wean. by Jay O’Toole on May 19th, 2021 |
Nightly thoughts in gentle flow bid me all His peace to know. How can hope within me grow when I list' to fear? Nightly thoughts at slower pace gentle me from daily race, finding Hope in Jesus' Face, making steps more clear. Nightly thoughts review each day, guiding on the narrow way, teaching good the lips to say. Honor all His worth. Nightly thoughts are worthy. True. Cherish good He works in you. Live this life, until He's through. Thank Him for new birth. Nightly dreams precede the dawn. Hopeful days lead on and on. Lasting life when breath is gone. Ever see His Smile. Nightly dreams from Him are Light, guiding us to live a-right, following beyond our sight, rest in Him awhile. Nightly dreams bring lessons near. The Voice of God becomes so clear. Banishing my ev'ry fear, I just need to stand. Nightly dreams in peaceful rest show my heart, that I am blest, saving me through ev'ry test by th'eternal Plan. by Jay O’Toole on May 18th, 2021 |
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