Classic Poem

Direct, O Lord, my suppliant eyes,
And guide my prayer aright,
That every word to Thee may rise
Like incense in Thy sight.

My morning offering receive;
And so, through all my days,
Until my life's declining eve,
A sacrifice of praise.

That I may measure speech, O Lord,
And value silence more,
Set Thou upon my lips a guard,
And at my mouth a door.

Let not the rebel heart betray
The tongue's appointed use,
Or make it run the evil way
Of malice and excuse.