| Things to Live For |
Chapter 8 |
Page 7 |
In older days, in sermons and in prayers, much reference was made to sins as divided into those of omission and those of commission. In the confession of sins in the service of the Protestant Episcopal Church, the worshipper acknowledges that he has left undone the things he ought to have done. Perhaps we give altogether too little attention to our sins of omission. We may think we are living fairly well because we do not commit grave and flagrant errors and sins; but how about the other side of our life? Are we doing the thousand acts of kindness which warm love would prompt? Do not the wary and the heart hungry and the tempted and the struggling and the needy pass by us continually, with their silent appeals to us for what we have to give the, yet pass by in vain? Here is one phase of thoughtfulness which in many of us needs culture. Marion Harland writes:–
“I might have said a word of cheer
Before I let him go.
His weary visage haunts me yet;
But how could I foreknow
The slighted chance would be the last
To me in mercy given?
My utmost yearnings cannot send
That world from earth to heaven.
“I might have looked the love I felt;
My brother had sore need
Of that for which–too shy and proud–
He lacked the speech to plead.
But self is near, and self is strong,
And I was blind that day
He sought within my careless eyes
And went, athirst, away.
“I might have held in closer clasp
The hand he laid in mine;
The pulsing warmth of my rich life
Had been as generous wine,
Swelling a stream that, even the,
Was ebbing fait and slow.
Mine might have been (God knows) the art
To stay the fatal flow.
“O, word and look and clasp withheld!
O, brother heart, now stilled!
Dear life, forever out of reach
I might have warmed and filled!
Talents misused and seasons lost,
O’er which I mourn in vain–
A waste as barren to my tears
As desert sands to rain!
“Ah, friend! Whose eyes today may look
Love into living eyes,
Whose tone and touch, perchance, may thrill
Sad hearts with sweet surprise;
Be instant, like our Lord, in love,
And lavish as his grace,
With light and dew and manna fall,
For night comes on apace.
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