They All Were Looking For A King To Slay Their Foes, And Lift Them High: Thou Cam'St A Little Baby Thing That Made A Woman Cry. O Son Of Man, To Right My Lot Nought But Thy Presence Can Avail; Yet On The Road Thy Wheels Are Not, Nor On The Sea Thy Sail! My Fancied Ways Why Shouldst Thou Heed? Thou Com'St Down Thine Own Secret Stair: Com'St Down To Answer All My Need, Yea, Every Bygone Prayer!