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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) |
The school year, now, is underway, but I stand by and watch, no more to teach from day to day, historic color swatch. These days I have new things to do to keep myself amused. I exercise my body new. I walked when the rain refused. For on the side of the road, I splashed as torrents poured on down I stood erect as peltings lashed my body, toe to crown. I walked, and trudged, and walked some more without a sheltered space. Upon the roadside drenched before I reached my truck cab's grace. Unruffled as a mad, wet hen, I made the best of it. 'Twas like I swam. 'Twas not a sin. I could not wetter get. Arriving home I could assess my situation, full. My driver's seat was wet to bless, not dry as was the rule. My socks were soaked. I wrung them out, and pealed 'way ev'ry cloth, that clung to me without a doubt as flames draw ev'ry moth. On the side of the road, I learned a Truth, "God rains on ev'ry man. The good days and the bad of youth are by His lasting Plan." Some days He gives us shelter quick. We find it if we hear. Some days the drops are really thick, and glasses are not clear. But in the end The One, Who made, and saves us by His Son, transforms this all for good displayed, His lasting Victory won. by Jay O’Toole on August 5th, 2022 |
Finding a new day's dawn, chapter closed, and something new must fill its place. Foundation to step on, question posed, "Do you need fame, or living grace?" The past is gone. Now's new. This fog clouds. Each reason's gone for all I did. Life remains. It's not through. Lift the shroud to find the prize, and place the bid. Parenting: gift to prize She's new grown. Life for me is open, wide, vast. Time for hope to arise. Seeds are sown. Harvest time for seeds of the past. by Jay O’Toole on August 4th, 2022 |
Each Christmas is about our peace, eternally from Time. The days of joy can all increase in Jesus' Love sublime. That Jesus came to save lost souls we love His Birth to know. Each Christmas day our yearly goals revolve 'round seeds we sow. The twinkly lights, and carol songs, and gifts of ev'ry kind are great, but in each heart it longs to know His Tie, that binds. Each Christmas is the place to rest our soul's deep weary weight. Because He came we can be blest. Forever no more late. The greatest Christmas Present came three days beyond the cross. His Substitution took our blame. His Goodness, no more loss. I talk of Christmas all the time, since Jesus' lasting Grace doth tune the heart to ever chime the hymns, that show His Face. Each Christmas 'bout His Peace, that glows is on each sav-ed tongue. How blest fore'er a heart, that knows Salvation's hymn is sung. by Jay O’Toole on August 3rd, 2022 |
quiet evening, still crickets gently bow a tune hopeful Earth awaits by Jay O’Toole on August 2nd, 2022 |
36, these wondrous years, I've lived with my best friend. Through great joys and many tears, we've cared to shoulders lend. 36 years are made of days to think, create, and grow. Some are gifts of great displays. Some are those we know. 36 wonderful blissful times, that God has given to us. Days of grace and truth sublime, and days requiring trust. 36, these years now past, we pray for many more. The good times, may their memories last, the bad be Wisdom's store. 36, these wondrous years. A man, I'm honored much. My wife's become so greatly dear. A lifetime love can touch. by Jay O’Toole on August 1st, 2022 |
So many days and nights they trudged to give a lasting place to stay to future fam'lies, friends, who judged the lives they lived in book display. They had a simple task to do, to shoot down foes or be shot down. The lives they took, they seldom knew, except when Christmas hopes abound. In 1914 truce was made 'tween soldiers known as "them and us." When over, arms they new displayed, and many lay in silent dust. In life they marched as rank and file, took orders from the ones, who led. In death their rows remain awhile 'neath stones, that mark the ones, who bled. The ones still standing mark each year. On Veterans Day we bless those lives. Memorial Day with sadness dear, supporting all that love survives. My granddad joined up very young. He was sent home with age found out. He ran away, 'twas soon among his soldier peers in strong redoubt. My dad in sub was Jonah's friend. He ran from God, Who called him, "Go." On floor of sea three days heart rend, he told God, "Yes," pulpit to know. The ones of us, who cherish all each freedom's bliss for many years, "Please, help us, God, to answer call to keep each footprint sown in tears." Though foreign fields I have not marched, my duty, "Vote, and jury serve." I pray I'm wise for they were parched. "God, stand me fast to never swerve." O, blessed soldiers, ever hailed are beacons in the growing night. Your lives held fast, though oft assailed. With tears for home, you stood to fight. by Jay O’Toole on July 29th, 2022 |
O, what's in a name? A person? A Place? A life or a wonderful day? A name may recall uniquely a face, or a friendship so easy to say. O, what's in a name? A long-cherished book? Or a wonderful holiday joy? A mountainous park, that would cause me to look with no words, I have left to employ? With her "face, that could launch a thousand ships," her name is remembered the best. This Helen of Troy, that graced all the lips. In honor most faced ev'ry test. O, what's in a name? Salvation from sin, and life everlasting in Bliss? Jesus Christ, wondrous Lord without equal among men. His Name I do bow down to kiss. by Jay O’Toole on July 28th, 2022 |
“But you, Daniel, shut up the words, and seal the book until the time of the end; many shall run to and fro, and knowledge shall increase.” (Daniel 12:4, NKJV) ----------------------------------------------------------- The days of life were sweet and slow when I was "just a pup," but now we strive for things to know at screens, that won't shut up. Each summer was "a million days" of June, July, August, but now we have so many ways to squander time and rust. Each graduation seems a time to rest, reflect, and think, but when the summer seems sublime new running's on the brink. The Master of Eternity doth not a hurry know. His Timing's true. The end He sees. Humanity must grow. The ending time, that Daniel saw seems like our day-to-day. We learn our most, but hem and haw 'bout what God's Word doth say. We ate the fruit, know wrong from right, but miss the One we need. Our rushing keeps us in our plight from God because of greed. Please, help us stop with open ears to hear Your "still, small voice." Remove from us all dancing fears to wait with You by choice. The rest we need we ne'er can find by searching high and low. It lights upon each pate as kind, that waits to learn and grow. ----------------------------------------------------- "11 And he said, Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the Lord. And, behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake: 12 And after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice. 13 And it was so, when Elijah heard it, that he wrapped his face in his mantle, and went out, and stood in the entering in of the cave. And, behold, there came a voice unto him, and said, What doest thou here, Elijah?" (I Kings 19:11-13, KJV) by Jay O’Toole on July 27th, 2022 |
sleeping through the day hunting through the starry night loving nearness shows by Jay O’Toole on July 26th, 2022 |
Childhood ends when the diploma comes. Summer ends when a dear carol hums. Lifetime ends when all the days are sums. Sadness sees ends, but Joy sees the new. Dad must now find some new thing to start. Winter attends Christmas from the heart. Live each day, 'til it's time to depart. Joy is the gift, that makes Hope now brew. by Jay O’Toole on July 25th, 2022 |