Oft have I watched thy trances light O grief for Angels to behold O happy new-born babe, where art thou lying O holy Cross, on thee to hang O Lord, behold these babes are Thine O Lord, give gracious humbleness of heart O wondrous warfare of the Spouse of God Pure is the glory of the Chrisom vest . Rejoice in God alway Seest thou yon woodland child She did but touch with finger weak. Speed on, ye happy Sunday hours, O speed Sweet maiden, for so calm a life. Tear not away the veil, dear friend . Tears are of Nature's best, they say Page 284 285 . 157 142 134 19 8 78 207 . 318 246 The Lord, the all-gracious, hides not all His ire. 73 The Lord who lends His creatures all The May winds gently lift the willow leaves The powers of Ill have mysteries of their own The primroses with kindly gleam There is no grief that ever wasted man The scourge in hand of God or man The shepherd boy lies on the hill The twelve holy men The wedding guests are met The western sky is glowing yet They talk of wells in caverns deep 202 . 189 119 338 253 . 160 204 . 278 280 28 192 INDEX OF FIRST LINES. This is the portal of the dead Thou mak'st me jealous, infant dear Thou, who didst choose thine awful room Thou, who with eye too sad and wan 'Tis said, th' immortal Powers on high "Twas at the matin hour. Wake me to-night, my mother dear Well fare the sage, whose dreams of old What is the joy the young lambs know? What is this sudden thrill What is this cloud upon thy brow What purer brighter sight on earth, than when What time the Saviour spread His feast Whence is the mighty grace When heart and head are both o'erflowing . 331 216 . 197 292 . 108 18 250 84 42 145 244 110 . 106 23 Page Where are the homes of Paschal mirth Where is the brow to bear in mortals' sight While snows even from the mild south-west Who for the like of me will care 82 69 15 31 242 |