| # | Text | Tune |  |  |  |  |  |  |
|---|
| d101 | Rise, Cynthia, rise, the ruddy morn | | | | | | | |
| d102 | Rise, my mind [soul], expand thy wings | | | | | | | |
| d103 | Science, thou fair effusive ray | | | | | | | |
| d104 | Scourge and tyrant of the land | | | | | | | |
| d105 | See, brothers, see, how the night comes on | | | | | | | |
| d106 | See the grave and zealous preacher | | | | | | | |
| d107 | Should former patriots be forgot | | | | | | | |
| d108 | Should persecution raise | | | | | | | |
| d109 | Sing to unbounded virtue's name | | | | | | | |
| d110 | Snatch fleeting pleasures | | | | | | | |
| d111 | Softly the moonlight is shed | | | | | | | |
| d112 | Sons of freedom, gather round | | | | | | | |
| d113 | Sons, who have with truth been fed | | | | | | | |
| d114 | Soon as the morn salutes your eyes | | | | | | | |
| d115 | Sound the loud timbrel o'er mystery's dark sea | | | | | | | |
| d116 | Source of life as found in nature | | | | | | | |
| d117 | Strike the cymbal, roll the tymbal [timbrel] | | | | | | | |
| d118 | Suns that set, and moons that wane | | | | | | | |
| d119 | The bright sun of reason relumes her fair sky | | | | | | | |
| d120 | The great, the unknown cause | | | | | | | |
| d121 | The land of freedom, hail | | | | | | | |
| d122 | The morning flowers display their sweets | | | | | | | |
| d123 | The morning sun shines from the east | | | | | | | |
| d124 | The reign of knowledge hail | | | | | | | |
| d125 | The source of beings | | | | | | | |
| d126 | The stores of darkness and of light | | | | | | | |
| d127 | The trumpet of liberty sounds | | | | | | | |
| d128 | The voice of the priest | | | | | | | |
| d129 | The winter is over and gone the thrush whistles | | | | | | | |
| d130 | There is a dear beloved spot | | | | | | | |
| d131 | There is a land of liberty | | | | | | | |
| d132 | There is, we read, a time for pain | | | | | | | |
| d133 | Time, like an over flowing stream, sweeps | | | | | | | |
| d134 | 'Tis love that paints the purple morn | | | | | | | |
| d135 | 'Tis not alone in the orient | | | | | | | |
| d136 | 'Tis the last rose of summer, left blooming alone | | | | | | | |
| d137 | To all earth's blessings deaf and blind | | | | | | | |
| d138 | To liberty's enraptured sight | | | | | | | |
| d139 | To music be the verse addressed | | | | | | | |
| d140 | To spread the truth, and truth alone | | | | | | | |
| d141 | Unmingled joys abound | | | | | | | |
| d142 | Watchman, tell us of the night | | | | | | | |
| d143 | We have broken the chain | | | | | | | |
| d144 | Were once this maxim deeply fixed | | | | | | | |
| d145 | What art thou, death that I should fear | | | | | | | |
| d146 | What is honor, it is a sound | | | | | | | |
| d147 | What mortal can presume to know | | | | | | | |
| d148 | What nature is no mortal knows | | | | | | | |
| d149 | When rolling orbs from nature | | | | | | | |
| d150 | When shall the time dear Jesus | | | | | | | |
| d151 | When snows descend and robe the fields | | | | | | | |
| d152 | When the fierce north wind with his airy forces | | | | | | | |
| d153 | When the trumpet shall lead us home | | | | | | | |
| d154 | When warm impetuous passions rise | | | | | | | |
| d155 | Where oppression's iron hand | | | | | | | |
| d156 | Why should terror longer seize | | | | | | | |
| d157 | Why should we ever seek to know | | | | | | | |
| d158 | Why should we fear to tread | | | | | | | |
| d159 | Why should we say that life | | | | | | | |
| d160 | Wisdom, the just and kind | | | | | | | |
| d161 | Ye sons of Columbia, O hail the | | | | | | | |
| d162 | Ye sons of Columbia who bravely have fought | | | | | | | |
| d163 | Ye sons of men, look round | | | | | | | |
| d164 | Yes, dear to this heart the scene | | | | | | | |
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