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.

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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.