How have I sinned? And what have I done wrong?
Where are the faults I know lie in my soul?
The list, should I have counted, is too long,
And still I know it would not have been whole,
For there are sins I do not know I did,
Failings I have forgotten, errors made,
Yet by the slip of memory still hid.
Should I hear them all, ah, how dismayed
Would have become? And yet I did each one,
Certainly, undoubtedly, myself.
And will I cringe to hear what I have done?
I cannot put them on some unswept shelf
To be ignored. Yet on this day, I know
If I repent of them, God lets them go.
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