The tongue, the tongue, with all its powers,

Is Thine who made it, Thine, not ours;

Lord, teach us early to controul,

That tameless tell-tale of the soul.

'Twas with the tongue, the serpent's wile

Did Eve's simplicity beguile;

'Twas with the tongue fall'n Adam tried,

His guilt behind her sin to hide.

The tongue's a sword, a two-edged sword,

To kill or quicken with a word;

A key to ope and shut the heart,

To lock out knowledge or impart.

With it God's glory we proclaim,

With it blaspheme His holy Name;

Here good and evil strangely meet,

Hence bitter waters flow with sweet.

Lord, such confusion should not be;

Thou art all truth, all equity;

Pure from Thine hand the creature sprung,

But lost Thine image through the tongue.

Through it that image be restored;

Let tongues of fire that preach Thy Word,

Call, by Thy Holy Spirit's might,

Souls out of darkness into light.

Be this our lot:--may heart and tongue

To heavenly harmony be strung,

Till every tone Thy love record,

And every pulse praise Thee the Lord.