The Tongue The Tongue With All Its Power
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.
Sacred Poems and Hymns