%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |    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 depths of ev'ry heart is filled with sadness on our own, until we see, that One once killed has risen all alone. "I am not good enough to save. I'm awful, and despised. Too much of me has sinned, depraved. Too much I hate, once prized." "You cannot be the good at all, that comes to me to live. You need just heed my Father's call, a gift to me He'd give." The pain of ev'ry human heart is our own Hell on Earth. One touch from Jesus truly starts real Hope through His new birth. Redemption's Price was paid by One, Who died, that I might live to make me His own blessed son to joy, and ever thrive. I've known my sadness in Despond's dark murky, smelly Slough, but He has rescued oft beyond. His Smiling Help it's through. The vict'ry's not one aught my own for He has rescued me. He stepped down from His blinding Throne to mortal weakness free. He makes me new with strength, not mine. He keeps me in His Hand. Now grafted in His lasting vine He teaches me to stand upon the heights I could not go, except He placed me there. He's making me to ever know He frees me from each care. Though still I face the tests of day and nights without the moon, I know I'll live with Him for aye, called "morning, night or noon." by Jay O’Toole on April 11th, 2022 |
Oh, He has risen. Yes, indeed! It's more than sentimental creed. It's more than hope-so for the day when He will call each soul, "Away." Indeed, arose this full bloom Rose, within some hearts, He grows and grows. within a life, that He once bought is Joy and Peace, He's honed and taught. His death on Friday, wounded heel but wounded head of serpent's real. Endured He momentary pain, that souls, His Bride would ever gain. The sunshine of that blessed morn shined light upon the mend, once torn. The veil now torn from top to floor lent cloth to clothe by loving Lord. He makes us righteous by His deed to turn us white by crimson's bleed. Forever Hope is now our home in His to live no more to roam. by Jay O’Toole on April 10th, 2022 |
| The palms are strewn along the way to bless the Lord of love. His Victory is true today. His Throne is up Above. My sin, though heavy, is crossed off by what the Lord has done. His cross erases all I lost as by His Vict’ry won. I lived in shame those years ago. Was wrong this very week. I wish my memory’d let me go, restored to friendships seek. The Savior of one Calvary’s cross was shamed without a sin. He crossed my sin off the list of loss. Forever, now, I win. He crossed my sin off debtor’s list to make me His dear son. Forever in His arms is bliss. Fore’er His Vict’ry’s won. by Jay O’Toole on April 10th, 2022 |
Looking in the mirror glass when will earthly frailties pass? Not until the New Day's dawn will all slips and falls be gone. How I wish to speak just good living best as humans should, but the words don't always come, making less of my hoped sum. When we stand before the Lord, promised grace right from His Word, "Then you'll know as you are known," fit to sit upon a throne. (I Corinthians 13:12, KJV) Some days now in fleshly rags, skin o'er-stuffed, it sags and bags, but when housed in un-sinned skin, wondrous days we'll live and win. How can I in hopeful ways speak the Truth of Lasting Day? Not with falsely-stepping tongue, caught in languages as hung. New Day's Dawn will help the mind, knowing thoughts, and being kind. Google won't be needed more, seeing eye-to-eye The Door. New Day's Dawn will banish walls, which have heretofore just stalled 'tween the true souls waiting hearts, stopping love, that they'd impart. New Day's Dawn, beyond the veil makes these earthly colors pale. In the light of Christ, the Lord is the good, that He affords. by Jay O’Toole on April 9th, 2022 |
The sounds of Heaven, organs play with joyful talk throughout the Day, but when the Savior sits enthroned the silence gem, so buffed and honed. The Lord of Glory by His Grace has saved, redeemed from Adam's race the souls of men, so poor and lost. He paid their debt, so grave the cost. "Let all the Earth keep silence 'fore" this great Redeemer, Heaven's Door. The honor goes to this One Man. Salvation's Gift is by Their Plan. Let all announce as organs play, "The Lord of Glory rules, today." As rocks their silence ever keeps, the children shout, and joy they reap. Examine well the silence gem as honor giv'n to only Him. We sing His praise as He allows, in silence at His Feet we bow. by Jay O’Toole on April 8th, 2022 |
It’s white with stripes throughout as thick. The stripes are dark as though it’s marred. In winter stands are soldiered sticks. In summer green leaves make them starred. The stand of birch, ensembled hosts, who stand, and serve throughout their lives. Such stalwart sentries strong as posts, who speak no words, but daily thrive. Unlauded by most eyes, that see, and hands, that touch or lean to rest. In joy, they stand as known by He, Who made them, keeps them daily blest. Unnumbered trees lost in the crowd, community of entwined roots. They need no praise, and ne'er are proud. Their flaking barks, such beauteous suits. Now, may we learn a lesson, rare, to stand, and be as we are made. Our beauty is forever there to Him, Whose service we are bade. by Jay O’Toole on April 7th, 2022 |
The teacher in those ancient days still broke bread with His friends. His miracles did quite amaze the lives, that He should tend. But there were those, who stood against this Chosen One from God. They sought occasion for they sensed, that most would Him applaud. The days of the annual feast drew near. Unleavened bread they'd eat. He marched t'ward destiny. It's clear. The future, not retreat. His miracles, His donkey ride, His anger in God's House, attention drew, He could not hide, He'd die to buy His spouse. These days were leading to the cross. He'd not avoid that death. For souls condemned, eternal loss He'd breathe His last blest breath. Is there a worthy cause, today, that drives us on to do our best in all we do and say, 'til mortal life is through? We are not Christ, Who died to save, but each can be His child, who finds great hope beyond the grave through Savior, meek and mild. The life we live is understood by Christ, and His dear folk, to others, we're not quite as good as this eternal Oak. His Father called Him to the cross to die and rise, again. He sensed the pain but saw across to Resurrection's Win. Each dear one bought by selfless deed, He made His very own. He made each reign as one He freed in lesser, lasting throne. by Jay O’Toole on April 6th, 2022 |
| Although it seems at times, that Wrong's made right, and hopes become a colorless refrain, when Truth can't win in Hell's atrocious blight, we focus on Horizon's line, again. The Lord has ways, that we can't fully know. He causes light to shine in darkest space. He brings a pain sometimes to make us grow, but always in the end we know His Grace. The momentary joy of fiendish hordes becomes defeat throughout the lasting Age. The Victory will always be the Lord's, and those of His know freedom from the cage. Never mistake will sons and daughters live. The sweetest peace He now and ever gives. by Jay O’Toole on April 5th, 2022 |
Every day I sit, and wait, while doing what I must. The day He comes will not be late. So, wait in peaceful trust. Some days I wonder, "Lord, today? Or wait I some days more?" But silence wafts as breezes say, "Be faithful as before." I see the world, its awful mess, and look for just one joy. I wonder how it can be blest, what hope we can employ. The silences of Christ may seem, like He's not doing aught, but we know the Truth we're free from pirate thoughts as bought. Be sure of this, dear waiting soul. The Lord is working still. Forever in His Presence, whole, agreeing with His Will. by Jay O’Toole on April 4th, 2022 |
The Day of Christ is evermore. His Christmas birth and life, again. He is the everlasting Door, the Savior from this life of sin. He spoke the word, and all began. The Earth and sky, the day and night were all His Blest Creation Plan. Then rested He to teach us right. To live with Him in Heaven's Day I am not qualified in me, but in the resurrection may I live with Him eternally. The Day of Christ will come real soon, but still, again, it's evermore. It's now, yet some day's trumpet tune will cause all souls to bow before The Christ, who lives both day and night as now, while Future and the Past are same to Him, the Truth, and right, Who knows all things, the First and Last. The Day of Christ is wondrous, glad to those, who know Salvation's Joy, but lasting Day will be too sad for those, who know their work's employ. O, come, Dear Heart. I plead thee, come. Fall fast before the empty tomb. Upon the Rock thy broken sum be mended by the Savior, whom did leave His Throne to rescue best the sinful race, that ate the fruit. For through His life and dying test did purchase white, the Christ Day's suit. O, come to live the Day of Christ before the door be closed, shut fast. Thy garments purchase without price, but with the Blood of Christ, that lasts. The Day of Christ by invite 'graved be thine by heeding Father's call. Thy precious soul be fully saved when He has of thy will, thy all. by Jay O’Toole on April 3rd, 2022 |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
