# | Text | Tune | | | | | | |
9 | He with good gifts that most is blest | | | | | | | |
11 | Sweet are His ways who rules above | | | | | | | |
13 | Somewhere, quiet in the rest of God | | | | | | | |
14 | Dear is the lost wife to a lone man's heart | | | | | | | |
16 | Thou wert far off, and in the sight of heaven | | | | | | | |
17 | O night of nights! O night | | | | | | | |
20 | Weeping and wailing needs must be | | | | | | | |
22 | God, to men Thy children shown | | | | | | | |
24 | Thou hast found me and I faint, I cannot bear Thy light | | | | | | | |
26 | Rise, for God calls thee, leaning down to bless | | | | | | | |
27 | Now the psalm to heaven ascending | | | | | | | |
29 | Let me hate mine own life | | | | | | | |
30 | When children are sick, when times are hard | | | | | | | |
32 | All desiring, nothing won | | | | | | | |
34 | Over the long green downs, when I do wander | | | | | | | |
36 | On Zion's hill the sacred dust | | | | | | | |
40 | God's great Gift to man forlorn | | | | | | | |
42 | Thick orchards, all in white | | | | | | | |
44 | Out of the deep, out of the deep | | | | | | | |
45 | I am dead with Thee, and I remain | | | | | | | |
47 | It is the Lord. He stands with thorny crown | | | | | | | |
49 | O! that I had wings | | | | | | | |
51 | "Watchman, what of the night?" | | | | | | | |
54 | When through the meads I go | | | | | | | |
56 | The measureless gulfs of air are full of thee | | | | | | | |
57 | As the hart panteth, fainting;—and forward looks | | | | | | | |
58 | When it was well with me | | | | | | | |
60 | Such as have not gold to bring Thee | | | | | | | |
62 | When the ardent sun rides high | | | | | | | |
63 | As the veil of broidery fine | | | | | | | |
64 | It is not dying daunts the heart | | | | | | | |
66 | When I lie waking, my heart nigh to breaking | | | | | | | |
68 | A morn of guilt, an hour of doom | | | | | | | |
71 | As on this day the Lamb, the Sacrifice | | | | | | | |
73 | Who shall begin the wondrous, wondrous story? | | | | | | | |
76 | Mary of Magdala, when the moon had set | | | | | | | |
79 | 'Twas at this hour, upon the world's great day | | | | | | | |
81 | Thy body done to death below | | | | | | | |
83 | In the night I think on Thee | | | | | | | |
85 | Early my God I bless | | | | | | | |
86 | O Christ of God, in my good days | | | | | | | |
88 | Our Saviour fear'd the suffering that should be | | | | | | | |
90 | I cast my cares on Thee | | | | | | | |
92 | Thy son, Adam, was red clay | | | | | | | |
94 | O Zion on the sacred hills | | | | | | | |
95 | Emptied of good, with many cares oppress'd | | | | | | | |
97 | Thou, when the dying Jesu bled | | | | | | | |
99 | Ascending to His Father's throne | | | | | | | |
101 | Now my sun will soon depart | | | | | | | |
102 | Like a great river Thy love flows | | | | | | | |
104 | The sun is gone the long clouds break | | | | | | | |
106 | Now will I sing a song I learned of old | | | | | | | |
108 | It was the heat of afternoon: To Sychar thus befell | | | | | | | |
110 | My Jesu! In the crowd He walks with sorrow's down-trod sons | | | | | | | |
114 | Thou giv'st to men the fruitful land | | | | | | | |
116 | Art Thou come down my life to end | | | | | | | |
118 | Now winter past, the white-thorn bower | | | | | | | |
120 | As a pillar on the shore | | | | | | | |
121 | All in still heat the waters lie | | | | | | | |
123 | There was a seer who spake of old | | | | | | | |
125 | A still small voice would fain me rouse | | | | | | | |
127 | Thou that sleepest not afraid | | | | | | | |
129 | Holy of Holies, forming Mind | | | | | | | |
131 | Church of God, these many years | | | | | | | |
134 | Tell to us, tell, O church of God | | | | | | | |
136 | In the valleys of Immanuel's land | | | | | | | |
138 | Would I, to save my dear child dutiful | | | | | | | |
140 | Was never sight so wondrous given? | | | | | | | |
142 | I sought the Lord, and afterward I knew | | | | | | | |
143 | The meaning of Thy meat and drink | | | | | | | |
144 | Jesus the Lamb of God, gone forth to heal and bless | | | | | | | |
147 | The summer night draws near its noon | | | | | | | |
150 | Mighty and merciful, to Thee | | | | | | | |
152 | Lord, how Thou lovest! with each one | | | | | | | |
154 | All in the city, whose gates are gold | | | | | | | |
155 | Thou, who didst bear man's grief of old | | | | | | | |
157 | As on this day in the times of yore | | | | | | | |
158 | Listen, O Isles, unto Me | | | | | | | |
160 | In foul and cheerless places | | | | | | | |
162 | An Island to the Lord of Hosts | | | | | | | |
165 | A word to the Greatness on high | | | | | | | |
167 | In great London as I walk'd, and day was dying | | | | | | | |
170 | Beautiful for situation | | | | | | | |
172 | Thou art gone up, a throne to share | | | | | | | |
174 | Thee my soul desires | | | | | | | |
176 | That precious oil we bought of Thee | | | | | | | |
177 | While his God, th'Almighty Lord | | | | | | | |
180 | Thou hast been alway good to me and mine | | | | | | | |
181 | Dark is my place and chill the night | | | | | | | |
184 | When I from all I love apart | | | | | | | |
186 | Since in Thy likeness man was made | | | | | | | |
188 | I sit before Him, and it draws to night | | | | | | | |
190 | From many a plenish'd home | | | | | | | |
193 | "One of those," He sigh'd at supper, "should betray Him" | | | | | | | |
195 | Deep the snow-drift covereth all | | | | | | | |
198 | How dreadful is this place | | | | | | | |
200 | I wait till Christ be form'd in me | | | | | | | |
202 | Lord Christ, the river is so cold | | | | | | | |
204 | Among the worlds of God lay one | | | | | | | |