Lyra Sacra Americana: or, Gems from American Sacred Poetry

#	Text	Tune
d201	This book is all that's left me now
d202	Thou art the Way, to thee alone
d203	Thou, infinite in love
d204	Thou, who didst stoop below
d205	Thou, who lookest with pitying eye
d206	Thousands completely fed
d207	Through the changes of the day
d208	Thy cruel crown of thorns
d209	'Tis he, 'tis he, I know him now
d210	'Tis midnight, and on Olive's brow
d211	To prayer, to prayer, for the morning breaks
d212	To the high and holy One
d213	To thine eternal arms, O God
d214	Tossed upon life's raging billow
d215	Trembling before thine awful throne
d216	Upon the well by Sychar's gate
d217	Watcher, who wakest [watchest] by the bed of pain
d218	We are living, we are dwelling In a grand and awful time
d219	We ask not that our path be always bright
d220	We come to the fountain, we stand by the wave
d221	We come, we come, with loud acclaim
d222	We may not climb the heavenly steeps
d223	We mourn for those who toil
d224	We praise thee, Savior, for the grace
d225	Weep not for the saint that ascends
d226	Westward, Lord, the world alluring
d227	What can I do the cause of God to aid
d228	When adverse winds and waves arise
d229	When gladness gilds our prosperous day
d230	When he, who from the scourge of wrong
d231	When on devotion's seraph wing
d232	When on his mission from his home in heaven
d233	When sorrow casts its shade around us
d234	When thy mortal life is fled
d235	When time seems short and death is near
d236	When troubles wave on wave assailed
d237	When winds are raging o'er the upper ocean
d238	While in this sacred rite of thine
d239	While the solemn note of time
d240	Why lament the Christian dying
d241	Within her downy cradle, there lay a little child
d242	Wouldst thou from sorrow find a sweet relief?
d243	Wrapped in the robe of faith
d244	Yes, bear them to their rest
d245	Yes, it is a faithful saying
d246	Yes, my native land, I love thee
d247	Young soldier of the cross, beware