| I. | 
| II. | 
| III. | 
| IV. | 
| V. | 
| VI. | 
| VII. | 
| VIII. | 
| I. | 
| II. | 
| III. | 
| IV. | 
| V. | 
| VI. | 
| VI. | 
| VII. | 
| VIII. | 
| IX. | 
| X. | 
| XI. | 
| XII. | 
| XIII. | 
| XIV. | 
| XVI. | 
| XVII. | 
| XVIII. | 
| XIX. | 
| XX. | 
| XXI. | 
| XXII. | 
| XXIII. | 
| XXIV. | 
| XXV. | 
| XXVI. | 
| XXVII. | 
| XXVIII. | 
| XXIX. | 
| XXX. | 
| XXXI. | 
| XXXII. | 
| XXXIII. | 
| XXXIV. | 
| XXXV. | 
| XXXV. | 
| XXXVI. | 
| XXXVII. | 
| XXXVIII. | 
| XXXIX. | 
| XL. | 
| XLI. | 
| XLII. | 
| XLIII. | 
| XLIV. | 
| XLV. | 
| XLVI. | 
| XLVII. | 
| XLVIII. | 
| LI. | 
| LII. | 
| LIV. | 
| LV. | 
| LVI. | 
| LVII. | 
| LVIII. | 
| LIX. | 
| LX. | 
| LXI. | 
| LXII. | 
| LXIII. | 
| LXIV. | 
| LXV. | 
| LXVI. | 
| LXVII. | 
| LXVIII. | 
| LXIX. | 
| LXX. | 
| LXXI. | 
| LXXX. | 
| LXXXIV. | 
| LXXXV. | 
| LXXXVI. | 
| XC. | 
| XCI. | 
| XCIII. | 
| XCIV. | 
| XCVII. | 
| XCVIII. | 
| C. | 
| CII. | 
| CIII. | 
| CIV. | 
| CVII. | 
| CXIV. | 
| CXVI. | 
| CXVII. | 
| CXVIII. | 
| CXIX. | 
| CXX. | 
| CXXI. | 
| CXXII. | 
| CXXIII. | 
| CXXIV. | 
| CXXV. | 
| CXXVI. | 
| CXXVII. | 
| CXXVIII. | 
| CXXIX. | 
| CXXX. | 
| CXXXI. | 
| CXXXII. | 
| CXXXIII. | 
| CXXXIV. | 
| CXXXVII. | 
| CXXXVIII. | 
| CXL. | 
| CXLII. | 
| CXLIII. | 
| CXLVI. | 
| CL. | 
| IX. | 
| X. | 
| XI. | 
| XII. | 
| XIII. | 
| CHAPTER VI. The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | ||
118.
[Happy the man who knows]
Happy the man who knows
His heart is not his own,
And cheerfully what God bestows
Restores to God alone:
Not on the world misplaced,
Not to the creatures given,
His heart which hath the Lord embraced
Enjoys a constant heaven.
His heart is not his own,
And cheerfully what God bestows
Restores to God alone:
Not on the world misplaced,
Not to the creatures given,
His heart which hath the Lord embraced
Enjoys a constant heaven.
Jesus I own my heart
Was made for only Thee;
Worthy of all its love Thou art,
Its whole capacity:
O never let me rest,
Till I Thyself receive,
And with Thy joyous presence bless'd
The life of angels live.
Was made for only Thee;
Worthy of all its love Thou art,
Its whole capacity:
O never let me rest,
Till I Thyself receive,
And with Thy joyous presence bless'd
The life of angels live.
| CHAPTER VI. The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | ||