What great trouble is the tongue—
Lying words it has sung.
An evil song begun.
Is it greater than the man
Who plots an evil plan?
Works wicked then began.
Words or works, which one is worse:
Darkened deeds, darkened verse?
Each from a sinful curse.
Both I think these must be wrong:
Bloody hands, broken song.
Each still I suffer long.
Both make marks on my weak soul
‘larging heart’s blackened hole,
Broken man not yet whole.
Oh, that I could trust in thee,
Not lies coming from me
But your blood setting me free.
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