I WILL NOT PASS THIS WAY AGAIN

MATTHEW 10:42

It isn't the thing you do, dear
It's the thing you leave undone,
That gives you the bitter heartache
At the setting of the sun;
The tender word unspoken,
The letter you did not write,
The flower you might have sent, dear,
Are your haunting ghosts, dear.

The stone you might have lifted
Out of your brother's way.
The bit of heartfelt 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.

These little acts of kindness,
So easily out of mind,
These chances to be angels,
Which even mortals find -
They come in nights of silence,
To take away the grief,
When hope is faint and feeble,
And a drought has stopped belief.

For life is all too short, dear
And sorrow is all too great,
To allow our slow compassion
That tarries until too late.
And it's not the thing you do, dear
It's the thing you leave undone,
That gives you the bitter heartache,
At the setting of the sun. By:Adelaide Proctor