Never elated while one man's oppressed, [283].
No distant Lord have I, [278].
O Lord, I pray that for this day, [278].
O Sentinel at the loose-swung door, [282].
O, the little birds sang east, [287].
O Thou who lovest not alone, [285].
O, though oft depressed and lonely, [287].
Sweet are the uses of adversity, [286].
The gifts that to our breasts we fold, [287].
The wounds I might have healed, [286].