Sweet are the gifts which gracious Heaven

Sweet are the gifts which gracious HeavenOn true believers pours;But the best gift is grace to knowThat Jesus Christ is ours.

Our Jesus! what rich drops of blissDescend 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 terminateThy slow-revolving hours;We wish, we pray, we long, we pant,In heaven to call him ours!