SINS OF OMISSION.

Otago Witness, Issue 2360, 18 May 1899, Page 52

SINS OF OMISSION.

It isn't the thing you do, dear, It's the thing you leave undone, Which gives yon a bit of heartache At the setting of the sun. The tender words forgotten,

The letter you did not write; The flower you might have sent, dear, Are your haunting ghosts to-night. The stone you might have lifted

Out of a brother's way, The bit of heartsome counsel

You were hurried too much to say. The loving touch of the hand, dear,

The gentle and winsome tone That you had no time or thought for, With troubles enough of your own.

Those little act* of kindness,

So easily out of mind; These chances to be angels, Which even mortals find. They come in night and silence, Bach chill and reproachful wraith, .When hope is faint and nagging, And a blight has dropped on faith. For life is all too short, dear,

And sorrow is all too great, To suffer one slow compassion That tarries until too late; And it's not the thing you do, deaf, It's the thing you leave undone, .Which gives you the bitter heaitacue At the setting of the sun. —FROM A MOTHER'S NOTEBOOK.