If by one word I help another, 287.
"If I have eaten my morsel alone," 284.
If I lay waste and wither up, 278.
In those clear, piercing, piteous eyes, 280.
It fortifies my soul to know, 280.
It was only a glad "Good morning," 287.
Lord, let me make this rule, 279.
Love thyself last: cherish those hearts, 286.
Milton! thou shouldst be living, 285.
My darling went unto the seaside, 281.
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.
There's a craze among us mortals, 284.
Weary of all this wordy strife, 279.
What makes a man great? 284.