288 INDEX TO FIRST LINES. "Till He come !"-oh, let the words. REV. E. H. BICKER- The Lord knoweth where each flower groweth.... Upward where the stars are burning.. Upon the hills the wind is sharp and cold ....... .... We wait for Thee, a'i glorious One!.. We praise Thee oft for hours of bliss....JOHN PAGE HOPPS. Who would not go ?....... Weep not for her, for she hath crossed the river When my sins in aspect dread..... Within this leaf, to every eye...... 12 23 52 81 H. N. E. 242 93 What must it be to dwell above.. Waiting for Spring. The mother watching lonely Where hast been toiling all day, sweet heart?. AI ICE CARY |