Hymnal & Psalter

The sands of time are sinking, The dawn of heaven breaks; The summer morn I've sighed for, The fair, sweet morn awakes. Dark, dark hath been the midnight, But day-spring is at hand, And glory, glory dwelleth In Immanuel's land. O Christ, He is the fountain, The deep, sweet well of love! The streams on earth I've tasted More deep I'll drink above; There, to an ocean fullness His mercy doth expand, And glory, glory dwelleth In Immanuel's land. With mercy and with judgment My web of time He wove, And aye the dews of sorrow Were lustered with His love. I'll bless the hand that guided, I'll bless the heart that planned, When throned where glory dwelleth In Immanuel's land. O I am my Beloved's, And my Beloved's mine! He brings a poor, vile sinner Into His house of wine; I stand upon His merit, I know no other stand, Not e'en where glory dwelleth In Immanuel's land. The bride eyes not her garment, But her dear bridegroom's face; I will not gaze at glory, But on my King of grace: Not at the crown He giveth, But on His pierced hand: The Lamb is all the glory Of Immanuel's land.