Forgetting

FREDERICK S. CAMPBELL

O troubled heart, regretful of past years
And stain of sin, so long to goodness blind,
A message here for thee, to dry thy tears.
'Tis this: Forget those things which are behind.

O restless heart, resentful of past wrongs,
Pained by injustice and the deed unkind,
To thee this word of Love divine belongs;
Thou too forget those things which are behind.

Dost say, Forget I cannot? Then hear this:
My Father knows no wrong. In that pure Mind
No thought of evil comes, in realm of bliss
No past. Forget those things which are behind.

Can aught be true that He, free from all taint,
Ever omniscient, never knew? Then find
Thyself, awake, His image, yea, His saint.
Press on! Forget those things which are behind.

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