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INDEX OF FIRST LINES
And is there in God’s world so drear a place
And wilt Thou hear the fever’d heart
Angel of wrath! why linger in mid air
As rays around the source of light
As when the Paschal week is o’er
At length the worst is o’er, and Thou art laid
Awake — again the Gospel-trump is blown
Beneath the burning eastern sky
Creator, Saviour, strengthening Guide
Dear is the morning gale of spring
Father to me Thou art and Mother dear
Fill high the bowl, and spice it well, and pour
Foe of mankind! too bold thy race
Go up and watch the new-born rill
Hues of the rich unfolding morn
I mark’d a rainbow in the north
In troublous days of anguish and rebuke
Is it not strange, the darkest hour
Is there, in bowers of endless spring
Is this a time to plant and build
It is so — ope thine eyes, and see
It was not then a poet’s dream
Lessons sweet of spring returning
Lord, and what shall this man do
Lord, in Thy field I work all day
Not till the freezing blast is past
Now is there solemn pause in earth and heaven
O hateful spell of Sin! when friends are nigh
O Lord my God, do Thou Thy holy will
O Thou who deign’st to sympathize
O Youth and Joy, your airy tread
Of the bright things in earth and air
Oh! day of days! shall hearts set free
Oh! say not, dream not, heavenly notes
Oh! who shall dare in this frail scene
On Sinai’s top, in prayer and trance
Praise to our pardoning God! though silent now
Prophet of God, arise and take
Red o’er the forest peers the setting sun
Say, ye celestial guards, who wait
See Lucifer like lightning fall
Seest thou, how tearful and alone
Since all that is not Heaven must fade
Sit down and take thy fill of joy
Soft cloud, that while the breeze of May
Star of the East, how sweet art Thou
Stately thy walls, and holy are the prayers
Sweet Dove! the softest, steadiest plume
Sweet nurslings of the vernal skies
Ten cleans’d, and only one remain
’Tis gone, that bright and orbed blaze
’Tis true, of old th’ unchanging sun
The bright-hair’d morn is glowing
The clouds that wrap the setting sun
The Earth that in her genial breast
The heart of childhood is all mirth
Th’ historic Muse, from age to age
The live-long night we’ve toil’d in vain
The midday sun, with fiercest glare
The morning mist is clear’d away
The prayers are o’er: why slumberest thou so long
The shadow of th’ Almighty’s cloud
The shower of moonlight falls as still and clear
The voice that from the glory came
The world’s a room of sickness, where each heart
There are, who darkling and alone
There is an awe in mortal’s joy
There is a book, who runs may read
They know th’ Almighty’s power
Thou first-born of the year’s delight
Thou thrice denied, yet thrice belov’d
’Twas silence in Thy temple, Lord
Two clouds before the summer gale
We were not by when Jesus came
When bitter thoughts, of conscience born
When brothers part for manhood’s race
When God of old came down from Heaven
When nature tries her finest touch
When Persecution’s torrent blaze
Where is it mothers learn their love
Where is the land with milk and honey flowing
Where is Thy favour’d haunt, eternal Voice
Who says, the wan autumnal sun
Why blow’st thou not, thou wintry wind
Why should we faint and fear to live alone
Will God indeed with fragments bear
Wish not, dear friends, my pain away
Ye hermits blest, ye holy maids
Ye stars that round the Sun of righteousness
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