Lord, Thou knowest I am growing order.
Keep me from becoming talkative and possessed with the idea that I must express myself on every subject.
Release me from the craving to straighten out everyone's affairs.
Keep me from the recital of endless details. Give me wings to get to the point.
Sear my lips when I am inclined to tell of my aches and pains. They are increasing with the years and my Love to speak of them grows sweeter as time goes by.
Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be wrong. Make me thoughtful but not nosy, helpful but not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom and experience, it does seem a pity not to use it all But Thou knowest, Lord, that I want a few friends at the end.