But in the bosom of a fool
It burns till morning light.

5 Pardon, O Lord, our childish rage;
Our little brawls remove;
That as we grow to riper age,
Our hearts may all be love.


Song 18.
_Against Scoffing and calling Names_.

1 Our tongues were made to bless the Lord,
And not speak ill of men:
When others give a railing word,
We must not rail again.

2 Cross words and angry names require
To be chastiz'd at school;
And he's in danger of hell-fire,
That calls his brother, fool.

3 But lips that dare be so prophane
To mock and jeer and scoff
At holy things, or holy men,
The Lord shall cut them off.

4 When children, in their wanton play
Served old Elisha so,
And bade the prophet go his way,