Sweet are the gifts which gracious Heaven

Sweet are the gifts which gracious Heaven
On true believers pours;
But the best gift is grace to know
That Jesus Christ is *ours*.

*Our* Jesus! what rich drops of bliss
Descend in copious showers,
When ruined sinners, such as we,
By faith can call him *ours!*

Differ we may in age and state,
Learning and mental powers,
But *all* the saints may join and shout,
Dear Jesus, thou art *ours!*

Let those who know our Jesus not,
Delight in earth's gay flowers;
We, glorying in our better lot,
Rejoice that He is *ours*.

When hope, with elevated flight,
Towards heaven in rapture towers,
'T is this supports our venturous wing,
We know that Christ is *ours*.

Though Providence, with darkening sky,
On things terrestrial lowers,
We rise superior to the gloom,
When singing, Christ is *ours*.

Time, which this world, with all its joys,
With eager haste devours,
May take inferior things away,
But Jesus still is *ours*.

Haste, then, dull time, and terminate
Thy slow-revolving hours;
We wish, we pray, we long, we pant,
In heaven to call him ours!