# | Text | Tune | | | | | | |
d201 | 'Tis told in mythologic lore | | | | | | | |
d202 | To God be glory, peace on earth, to all mankind good will | | | | | | | |
d203 | Traveler, whither art thou going | | | | | | | |
d204 | Trust to the future | | | | | | | |
d205 | Truth reflects upon the senses | | | | | | | |
d206 | Vital spark of heavenly flame | | | | | | | |
d207 | Wake, the world is rife with beauty | | | | | | | |
d208 | We are going home, we've had visions | | | | | | | |
d209 | We are living, we are dwelling In a grand and awful time | | | | | | | |
d210 | We are standing on the threshold | | | | | | | |
d211 | We go the way that leads to God | | | | | | | |
d212 | We number the days, and the months, and the years | | | | | | | |
d213 | We'd heard the old familiar tune | | | | | | | |
d214 | We'll go to the mountains | | | | | | | |
d215 | We're bound for the land of the pure and the holy | | | | | | | |
d216 | What heavenly bliss will soon be mine | | | | | | | |
d217 | What is the use of being sad | | | | | | | |
d218 | What is this that steals, that steals upon my frame | | | | | | | |
d219 | What seraph like music falls sweet on my ear | | | | | | | |
d220 | When clouds arise and hide from view | | | | | | | |
d221 | When from the orient gates of morn | | | | | | | |
d222 | When I can read my title clear | | | | | | | |
d223 | When, in the hours of vernal bloom | | | | | | | |
d224 | When marshalled on the nightly [mighty] plain | | | | | | | |
d225 | When the day god, worn and wary | | | | | | | |
d226 | When the hours of day are numbered | | | | | | | |
d227 | When the rose is blushing | | | | | | | |
d228 | When the sun goes to rest in the arms of the west | | | | | | | |
d229 | When verdure clothes [robes] the fertile vale | | | | | | | |
d230 | When we hear the music ringing in [through] the bright | | | | | | | |
d231 | While passing a garden, I lingered to hear | | | | | | | |
d232 | Why am I so weak and weary | | | | | | | |
d233 | Why should our tears in sorrow flow | | | | | | | |
d234 | Why should we spend so many days | | | | | | | |
d235 | Wild bids now are singing | | | | | | | |
d236 | Within thy circling arms I [we] lie | | | | | | | |
d237 | Wounded and sorrowful, far from my home | | | | | | | |
d238 | Young Philo let a snowy ball | | | | | | | |
[This hymnal is not yet complete - may be missing texts or tunes]