# | Text | Tune |  |  |  |  |  |  |
201 | The night is made for cooling shade | | | | | |  | |
202 | I bring my hymn of thankfulness | | | | | |  | |
203 | Fold up thy hands, my weary soul | | | | | |  | |
204 | I plucked it in an idle hour | | | | | |  | |
205 | O beauteous things of earth | | | | | |  | |
206 | The ship may sink | | | | | |  | |
207 | Since Eden, it keeps the secret | | | | | |  | |
208 | How do the rivulets find their way | | | | | |  | |
209 | Guest from a holier world | | | | | |  | |
210 | Great Maker, teach us how to hope in man | | | | | |  | |
211 | Lord, send us forth among thy fields to work! | | | | | |  | |
212 | Because I could not stop for death | | | | | |  | |
213 | I never saw a moor | | | | | |  | |
214 | Death is a dialogue | | | | | |  | |
215 | Exultation is the going of an inland soul to sea | | | | | |  | |
216 | The bustle in a house | | | | | |  | |
217 | Afraid, of whom am I afraid | | | | | |  | |
218 | If I can stop one heart from breaking | | | | | |  | |
219 | Look back on time with kindly eyes | | | | | |  | |
220 | They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars | | | | | |  | |
221 | She died this was the way she died | | | | | |  | |
222 | At least to pray is left, is left | | | | | |  | |
223 | Let down the bars, O death | | | | | |  | |
224 | Through the straight pass of suffering | | | | | |  | |
225 | I am old and blind | | | | | |  | |
226 | O Christian soldier, shouldst thou rue | | | | | |  | |
227 | In youth, when blood was warm and fancy high | | | | | |  | |
228 | Blindfolded and alone I stand | | | | | |  | |
229 | They bade me cast the thing away | | | | | |  | |
230 | As when on some great mountain-peak we stand | | | | | |  | |
231 | Like a blind spinner in the sun | | | | | |  | |
232 | Angel of pain, I think thy face | | | | | |  | |
233 | Like a cradle rocking, rocking | | | | | |  | |
234 | I cannot think but God must know | | | | | |  | |
235 | Good tidings every day | | | | | |  | |
236 | Mysterious death, who in a single hour | | | | | |  | |
237 | Could we but know the land | | | | | |  | |
238 | I have a little kinsman | | | | | |  | |
239 | The city's shining towers we may not see | | | | | |  | |
240 | O little town of Bethlehem, How still we see | | | | | |  | |
241 | Gray distance hid each shining sail | | | | | |  | |
242 | All moveless stand the ancient cedar-trees | | | | | |  | |
243 | Speechless sorrow sat with me | | | | | |  | |
244 | This is the feast time of the year | | | | | |  | |
245 | The day is ended, Ere I sink to sleep | | | | | |  | |
246 | A golden twinkle in the wayside grass | | | | | |  | |
247 | The eagle nestles near the sun | | | | | |  | |
248 | Crimsoning the woodlands dumb and hoary | | | | | |  | |
249 | The legend says, in paradise | | | | | |  | |
250 | He leant, at sunset, on his spade | | | | | |  | |
251 | Yes, God is good, I'm told, you see | | | | | |  | |
252 | Then shall he answer | | | | | |  | |
253 | Shut in a close and dreary sleep | | | | | |  | |
254 | God's will is the bud of the rose for your hair | | | | | |  | |
255 | Long is the way O Lord | | | | | |  | |
256 | Some day or other I shall surely come | | | | | |  | |
257 | I hear the soft September rain intone | | | | | |  | |
258 | How, we, poor players on life's little stage | | | | | |  | |
259 | Dear and blessed dead ones | | | | | |  | |
260 | That longed for door stood open | | | | | |  | |
261 | I hear the low voice that bids me come | | | | | |  | |
262 | Across the sea I sail, and do not know | | | | | |  | |
263 | Because I seek thee not, oh seek thou me | | | | | |  | |
264 | At end of love, at end of life | | | | | |  | |
265 | Round among the quiet graves | | | | | |  | |
266 | From the soft south the constant bird comes back | | | | | |  | |
267 | The glad dawn sets his fires upon the hills | | | | | |  | |
268 | Fain would I climb the heights | | | | | |  | |
269 | In those high heavens wherein the fair stars flowre | | | | | |  | |
270 | Just come from heaven, how bright and fair | | | | | |  | |
271 | Whenever my heart is heavy | | | | | |  | |
272 | Still Sundays, rising o'er the world | | | | | |  | |
273 | Thou art alive, O grave | | | | | |  | |
274 | In the bitter waves of woe | | | | | |  | |
275 | Sick of myself and all that keeps the light | | | | | |  | |
276 | When to soft sleep we give ourselves away | | | | | |  | |
277 | Knowledge, who hath it, Nay, not thou | | | | | |  | |
278 | Sing, children, sing | | | | | |  | |
279 | Upon the sadness of the sea | | | | | |  | |
280 | Across the narrow beach we flit | | | | | |  | |
281 | Come with a smile, when come thou must | | | | | |  | |
282 | The Star I worship shines alone | | | | | |  | |
283 | Build a little fence of trust | | | | | |  | |
284 | Lord, for the erring thought | | | | | |  | |
285 | If he could doubt on his triumphant cross | | | | | |  | |
286 | If I lay waste, and wither up with doubt | | | | | |  | |
287 | As I stand by the cross on the lone mountain's crest | | | | | |  | |
288 | Bells of the past, whose long forgotten music | | | | | |  | |
289 | Serene, I fold my hands and wait | | | | | |  | |
290 | Mysterious presence, source of all | | | | | |  | |
291 | Nay, I will pray for them until I go | | | | | |  | |
292 | The blast has swept the clouds away | | | | | |  | |
293 | For the dead and for the dying | | | | | |  | |
294 | We know not what it is, dear, this sleep so deep | | | | | |  | |
295 | The Master walked in Galilee | | | | | |  | |
296 | Life is unutterably dear | | | | | |  | |
297 | A form not always dark, but ever dread | | | | | |  | |
298 | Eternal Ruler of the ceaseless round | | | | | |  | |
299 | It singeth low in every heart, we hear it each and all | | | | | |  | |
300 | O Friend your face I cannot see | | | | | |  | |