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From every stormy wind that blows
Forth from the dark and stormy sky
Forth from the camp

From little seeds sweet flowers spring

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Hast thou admitted with a blind, fond trust

Here sweetly sleeps awhile

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King of the forest which through years gone by
Kind stranger, dost thou ask me why

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Long may his living countenance express
Labourer cease, thy work is done

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Like summer eve when sunlight throws
Live while you live

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Lord of the harvest! thee we hail
Let me once more my garden see
Lord! when heavenly dues distil
Let saints below join saints above
Lo
Let all who name his blessed name
Lord of my life! whose glories shine

returned the joyful season

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Loud was the wind, and wild the tide

My times of sorrow and of joy

My times are in thy hand

My son, the wanderings of thy way
Mary it is a lovely name
Mysterious are His ways

Mark the golden grains that pass

May she for whom these lines are penned
May you always, my brother, enjoy
My weary soul with patience waits

Man, like a flower, at morn appears
No page of friendship or of love

Not for the summer hour alone
No graven image would he blindly use
O for a faith as firm, unmoved
Oh! tell me not of earthly joys

O words of wonder! Saviour can it be?
O God! thy name they well may praise
O never on this holy book

Oh! how unlike the complex works of man
O child of sorrow be it thine to know

O Christ, our hope, our heart's desire
Our dying friends come o'er us like a cloud

O Salem! who in proud disdain

O help me, Lord, to cast my care
Observe the rising lily's snowy grace

O Israel! dark was the doom of thy nation
Oh! sweet as vernal dews that fill
Oh! what a night was that which wrapped
Onward through a peaceful valley
O God, that madest earth and sky

O could I write that I myself could save
O Jesus! teach me, like thyself, to fly

O help us, Lord, each hour of need
Onward, onward, men of heaven
O Lord of mercy and of might

O look up to the soft blue sky

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Oh! come with thy olive branch, spirit of love
O God! by whom the seed is given

See how beneath the moonbeam's smile
Surely it is a murmuring tone

See with a smile of gladness, meek

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Say shall the little ant with care and pain
Soon to the dust we speed

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Still this one thing I do
Serve God before the world

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Soldier go, but not to claim

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Sweet Hope, ne'er failing friend of man
Sweet bird! who taught thee thus to raise

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Strike the sweet chord

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Stranger, if e'er by chance or feeling led

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Seest thou that dying soldier on the ground
Sweet book, by God, our maker, given

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