The Dead Past and the Living Present
By L. D. Santee
“Forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before.” Phil. 3: 13. WHY mourn for the mercies we’ve scorned in the past?
Why weep that we journey life’s desert alone?
Why lament that the roses eluded our grasp,
While the thorns were our lot through some fault of our own? Why weep for the blessings that vanished with years?
That sunshine was darkened when fell the sad rain?
Why add to our darkness the blur of our tears,
And fill up our hearts with the anguish of pain? All our weeping, life seasons can never restore.
Past daisies no longer look up to the skies.
The roses once perished shall bloom nevermore.
No more life for the love that is scorned till it dies. But the present—its pages press close to our face,
Fair, white, and unsullied, for mortals to write.
Shall we trace there a record of angelic grace,
Or mar its fair pages with darkness of night? Ah, the present—what conflicts, what victories to win!
Then, brother, be valiant, and arm for the fray.
What grand deeds for Jesus, what battles with sin,
What loving acts done, may be yours for to-day!
L. D. SANTEE.