Mother, upon my lips today Christ's precious blood was laid; that blood which centuries ago was for my ransom paid. And half in love and half in fear I seek for aid from thee, lest what I worship, wrapt in awe, should be profaned by me. Wilt thou vouchsafe as Portress dear, to guard those lips today? Lessen my words of idle worth, and govern all I say. Keep back the sharp and quick retorts, that rise so easily; soften my speech, with gentle art, to sweetest charity.