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A cloud lay cradled near the setting fun
A glorious remnant of the Gothic pile
Alas! that man should madly prize
All I feel, and hear, and see
And haft thou fought thy heavenly home.
And storied windows, richly dight.
And who is He? the vast, the awful form
A parish Priest was of the pilgrim train
As one by one Stars on the Eastern space.
A Sunday well spent
Author of Being, Source of Light

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Beam on us brightly, blessed day.
Be calm in arguing, for fierceness makes
Begin, my soul, th' exalted lay
Behold! th' Ambassador divine
Be thou content, be still before
Bird of the Wilderness
Blessed city, Heavenly Salem
Bread of the World, in mercy broken
Brief life is here our portion
Brightest and best of the Sons of the Morning
But fainter than the viewless sand
But pleasures are like poppies spread
By Nebo's lovely mountain

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Care mi Jesu
Come, Brethren, let us go
Come, bright Improvement, in the car of Time
Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire
Come Holy Spirit God and Lord .
Compulfion from its destined course
Confors Paterni Luminis .
Contemplate when the sun declines
Could we with ink the Ocean fill

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Eternity, Eternity
Every science, power, or art

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Father, I know that all my life
Father of all, in every age
Felowe of thy Father's lyghte
Firm was thou, humble and wise.
Forgive, bleft shade, the tributary tear
Friend after friend departs

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Give me the Priest these graces shall possess
God is love, His mercy brightens .
God is our refuge in distress
God moves in a mysterious way
Good when He gives, supremely good
Go up and watch the new-born rill
Great God what do I see and hear

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Hail! Hail! Hail !
Hail to thee, blythe Spirit
Hail to the Lord's Anointed
Hallelujah song of sweetness
Hark! ten thousand, thousand voices
Hark! the Vesper Hymn is stealing
Haft thou a charm to stay the Morning Star
He hath gone to the place of his reft
He lived for others, while he sojourned here

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He loved the world that hated Him
Her charm around, the enchantress, memory threw
Here is the spring whence waters flow
Here Martyn lies! In manhood's early bloom
He that is down needs fear no fall
He who hath bent him o'er the dead
High the angel choirs are raising .
High thoughts at first, and visions high
His fun went down in cloudless skies
Holiness on the head
Honour to women! entwining and braiding
How fading are the joys we dote upon
How fine has the day been, how bright was the Sun
How pleasant to me thy deep blue wave
How
poor,

how rich, how abject, how august
How swiftly glide life's transient scenes

away
How welcome those untrodden spheres
Hues of rich unfolding morn

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I am old and blind
Jerusalem! Jerusalem ! enthroned once on high
Jesus, I my cross have taken
Jesus, lover of my soul
Jesus, my Lord, 'tis sweet to rest.
Jesus, Thy blood and righteousness
Jesus, Thy boundless love to me .
If ever angels walked on weary earth
If God could make this world so fair
If loving hearts were never lonely
If rightly trained and bred
If thou wilt take the Byble boke
If veiled our eyes, their piercing sight
I have a home above
I love to see yon glorious Sun
I'm apt to think the man
In de dark woods, no Indian nigh

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In every object here I see
In sacred loneliness
In midst of this City celestial
In the midst of Life behold
I praised the earth in beauty seen
I saw the living pile ascend
Is it not sweet to think hereafter
I shine in the light of God
I Nept, and in my neep I dreamed
It matters little at what hour o'the day

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Knell of departed years
Know'ft thou the value of a soul immortal

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Lamb of God, who Thee receive .
Let not the stealing god of Neep surprise. .
Lift thine eyes, and from afar
Like music on the waters
Like the gale that sighs along
Live while you live, the epicure will say
Lord, as a tender mother day by day
Lord ! let my heart still turn to Thee
Lord, Thy life let us receive
Love is a stream which ever more doth flow
Love makes the music of the blessed above
Lumen hilare sanctæ gloriæ

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Maker of all, the Lord
Meek and lowly, pure and holy
Mid the deep silence of the pathless wild .
More sweet than odours caught by him who fails .
My joy, my life, my crown

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Nor can the snows, which now cold age hath shed
Nor second he that rode sublime .
Not a drum was heard

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