These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

Betrothal Hope

Oh, when will the Lord come to carry away
the wife He's betrothed to that all lasting day
far from this old life's unending dismay
to love for all time.

What doth Him dissuade, that tarries him now?
What hinders us coming 'fore the priest for to bow?
The darkness of watches in blackness doth grow.
Make the oil all sublime.

For years we have waited, the scoffers disdain.
The words that are writ, Your Intentions most plain.
You will come in the night, at the noon, or in rain.
You never are late.

Oh, Love, all these poems are written for You
for ne'er in the Ever Lands will they be through.
My heart bleeds in rhymes, and always will do
to show You are Great!

This lonely, small room is a tent for the trek.
It shelters us here as Your Merits bedeck,
'til shown royal to all with Your Robes 'round the neck,
the Groom sees our best.

Opaque through these days is the canvas supreme,
ever waiting and crying through our times, it may seem,
but the Change in a Moment splits the sky with its beams,
released from our test.

Let's focus on Jesus, Our soon-coming Groom,
Who rose from the dead to empty His tomb.
His menacing Eyes o'er His enemies loom.
He will banish His foes.

As the pain of a birth, His Coming will free.
Ne'ermore knowing the weariness, now that we see,
nor the heartache we carry. Forever with He
all our Joy ever grows.

by Jay O’Toole
on October 7th, 2025


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