Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking that
I must say something on every subject and on every occasion.

Release me from craving to straighten out everybody's affairs.

Make me thoughtful but not moody; helpful but not bossy. 

With my vast store of wisdom, it seems a pity not to use it all - 
but Thou knowest, Lord, that I want a few friends at the end.

Keep my mind from the recital of endless details - 
give me wings to get to the point.

Seal my lips on my aches and pains. 
They are increasing and love of rehearsing them
is becoming sweeter as the years go by.

I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales
of others but help me to enjoy them with patience.

I dare not ask for improved memory but a growing
humility and lessening cocksureness when 
my memory seems to clash with the memory of others.

Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.
Keep me reasonably sweet. I do not want to be a saint - 
some of them are hard to live with -
but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil.

Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places 
and talents in unexpected people. Give me the grace to tell them so. 

Unknown