The Door of the Lips by S. Trevor Francis

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Mar 4, 1913

The Door of the Lips

By S. Trevor Francis

“Set a watch, O Lord, before my mouth; keep the door of my lips.” Ps. 141:3.

Say not the thing ye mean not. Words are knives That cut deep gashes in our little lives; Gashes that reach deep down within the heart, And all our lives leave some unhealed smart. Say not the thing ye mean not. Words will live To mock your grief, when you perchance would give Your very life to take away the pain That you have made; alas, ’twill then be vain.

Ah, many a word that was in passion said Has left a wound that secretly has bled, Till love has come to be a trickling stream, And earthly joy like some past happy dream. Yea, all that brightens life has fled away, Leaving but work, the dreary livelong day. Say not the thing ye mean not. There be few Whose life within and life without are true.

Yet be ye true, yea, tho ye suffer wrong, If true, then real, and being real, strong; And being strong, some little word we speak May help some struggling brother who is weak. Say not the thing ye mean not. Sure our life Is not for meanness, pettiness, or strife; Souls who have destinies so great and high Must not defame their immortality.

Say not the thing ye mean not. Every word That wrought a pang of anguish, or that stirred With secret sorrow any human soul, Will bound back on thyself, like waves that roll Themselves upon the shore; they leap again To the deep bosom or the watery main. Say not the thing ye mean not. Harsh and chill Is this cold world; why let thy words work ill?

Rather wipe eyes that weep, cheer those who mourn, And whisper comfort into hearts forlorn. Impute not wrong, lest thou shouldst add to strife, Or mar with bitterness some noble life. Say not the thing ye mean not. Death is nigh; Thou knowest not but soon that one may lie In the cold grave, whose ears so sadly heard The harsh, unfeeling, bitter, unkind word.

— S. Trevor Francis.