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 We live much of life amid unique choices. Joy is anchored in The One beyond our life. |
| Day by day, threading years. What, at last, will we weave? Believing Christ stops our fears, before we finally fly to leave. Sinful lives don't destroy our blest hope for Heaven, fair. Goodness we can ne'er employ to lift off Earth to get us there. "Filthy rags" don't smell too sweet, but every right deed stinks like this. "Diapers" carry to the Master greet? Naught have we to purchase Bliss. (Isaiah 64:6, KJV) "What must I do to be now saved?" "Believe on Jesus Christ, the Lord." Your end will nevermore be grave for Hope is woven through His Word. (Acts 16:30-31, KJV) "All is peace down here below?" "Hardly in this lair of night." "You've no Hope to weave, I trow." "If 'tis here, then nothing's bright." (I Corinthians 15:19, KJV) Spreading seeds of harvest grain may bring in time, the time-wrought fruit. Wait we for the life-blest rain. See we fullness from the root. All Hope we find in Christ once giv'n, as Babe once laid 'tween Earth and sky. From feeding trough to side full riv'n, then laid in the grave, since His Body died. What Hope we have for Christ arose! His Body's no more in the grave. Redeemed are we, His Free Will chose, that evermore to Sin,... no slave. by Jay O’Toole on October 19th, 2025   {/center}   |
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