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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)    |
air is really wet dousing fur and plumes alike all hope for the fall by Jay O’Toole on July 7th, 2022 |
drummers in the sky lightning draws the loudest boom sensitive dog's heart by Jay O’Toole on July 6th, 2022 |
The still life croons. The wall, the stage as apple's basso drips creating spicy sauce, the rage of tongue beyond the lips. These hosta mezzo tones in oil recite his music piece. The brush of Handel's greatest toil brings Nature's blest release. The Gleaners chorus fills the field. It echoes through the room to bless all hearts with sounds, that heal, unbar the heart's lone tomb. The Blue Boy peels the rafters rare. Soprano notes ring high as Gainsborough in wide-mouthed stare doth contemplate the Why. The treble formed in acrylic Bach, Jesu, Joy of Man's Desire to this new canvas all blest flock. Great hope creates the spire. A steak in watercolor fair doth tempt the tongue to eat, but ribs flamed prime or slightly rare confuse the hoped-for treat. Each canvas baked, a new delight. Each song sung from the heart. Each color feathered beauteous sight. Each word a wondrous start. by Jay O’Toole on July 5th, 2022 |
O, Freedom to live truest peace with Grace, that causes fears to cease among all hearts in Joy released, we thank, Thee, God Above. O, Freedom born of the greatest Gift, that spirits worn be daily lift, perspectives from the Darkness shift to see God's lasting Love. O, Freedom birthed on frozen toes, reminding of the lives of those, who knew the Truth, that Wisdom grows through wins & losses each day. O, Freedom may we keep thy trust to stand for what you stood as just, that we would live our lives as must to honor and obey. O, Freedom let us know your name throughout all ages, true and same, beyond all wagging tongues, that blame of weaknesses, that sway. O, Freedom borne on Justice, rare, beyond the ages, angels stare at what God wrought in Grace to dare for Hope is Mercy's Joy! O, Freedom waving through the night 'mid bombs explosions causing fright was theirs and ours by God's Own Might, that Grace He would employ. by Jay O’Toole on July 4th, 2022 |
after winter, blooms seeds mature, and crops are gained cycling for the earth by Jay O’Toole on June 30th, 2022 |
So many years ago they wed to start a life of bliss. Though anger turned their faces red, they'd soon make-up and kiss. The storybook was never theirs? Those tales are ne'er the best. They loved and sometimes "put on airs," but honest words were blest. They brought two sons into the world to serve Christ through each day. God's Word they all as a flag unfurled is preached in all they say. My Dad and Mom they breathed their last, and now before the Throne they worship Christ both longed to know through life's oft creaks and groans. Await they do their sons to come with family all in tow when e'er they'll know the part and sum of seeds, the Lord did sow. word count: 126 line count: 20 the prompt: Topic #1 - Please pick a Holiday or Occasion from the country you are from this month and write a poem about it. by Jay O’Toole on June 29th, 2022 |
keeping safe from much over-bright will cause its end humid, gentle light by Jay O’Toole on June 28th, 2022 |
through soft shade it shines late day sun laminates leaves sunset cuddles elm by Jay O’Toole on June 27th, 2022 |
really not so tame fine line lived 'tween man and beast only God controls by Jay O’Toole on June 26th, 2022 |
The things we hold so dear to the heart are cherished e'er and e'er. These treasures may have known a start, fore'er they're blessed with care. Sometimes they wane in Society's mind, though they are held quite dear to humans, who don't change or find a new thought just as clear. These strong-held truths are always true for popularity means little to the ones, who do the right, and seek for Thee. by Jay O’Toole on June 24th, 2022 |
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