Sun Of My Soul! Thou Saviour Dear,

Give Us Grace To Listen Well.

Love Masters Agony; The Soul That Seemed Forsaken Feels Her Present God Again And In Her Father's Arms Contented Dies Away.

The Watchful Mother Tarries Nigh Though Sleep Have Closed Her Infant's Eye, For Should He Wake, And Find Her Gone.

The Trivial Round, The Common Task,would Furnish All We Ought To Ask.

God Hath Sworn To Lift On High Who Sinks Himself By True Humility.