Immanuel’s Land The Sands of Time Are Sinking They shall see His face. (Revelation 22:4) 1. The sands of time are sinking, 6. E’en Anwoth was not heaven— The dawn of heaven breaks, E’en preaching was not Christ; The summer morn I’ve sighed for, And in my sea-beat prison The fair, sweet morn awakes: My Lord and I held tryst: Dark, dark hath been the midnight, And aye my murkiest storm-cloud But dayspring is at hand, Was by a rainbow spann’d, And glory—glory dwelleth Caught from the glory dwelling In Immanuel’s land. In Immanuel’s land. 2. Oh! well it is forever, 7. But that He built a heaven Oh! well forevermore Of His surpassing love, My nest hung in no forest A little New Jerus’lem, Of all this death-doomed shore! Like to the one above,— Yea, let the vain world vanish, “Lord, take me o’er the water,” As from the ship the stand, Had been my loud demand, While glory—glory dwelleth “Take me to love’s own country, In Immanuel’s land. Unto Immanuel’s land.” 3. There the Red Rose of Sharon 8. But flowers need night’s cool darkness, Unfolds its heart-most bloom. The moonlight and the dew; And fills the air of Heaven So Christ, from one who loved it, With ravishing perfume; His shining oft withdrew; Oh, to behold its blossom, And then, for cause of absence, While by its fragrance fann’d My troubled soul I scann’d— Where glory—glory dwelleth But glory, shadeless, shineth In Immanuel’s land. In Immanuel’s land. 4. The King there in His beauty, 9. The little birds of Anwoth Without a veil is seen: I used to count them blest,— It were a well-spent journey Now, beside happier alters Though seven deaths lay between: I go to built my nest: The Lamb with His fair army, O’er these there broods no silence, Doth on Mount Zion stand; No graves around them stand, And glory—glory dwelleth For glory, deathless, dwelleth In Immanuel’s land. In Immanuel’s land. 5. Oh! Christ He is the fountain, 10. Fair Anwoth by the Solway, The deep sweet well of Love! To me thou still art dear! The streams on earth I’ve tasted, E’en from the verge of Heaven More deep I’ll drink above: I drop for thee a tear. There, to an ocean fullness, Oh! if one soul from Anwoth His mercy doth expand, Meet me at God’s right hand, And glory—glory dwelleth My Heaven will be two Heavens, In Immanuel’s land. In Immanuel’s land! 11. I’ve wrestled on towards Heaven, 16. I shall sleep sound in Jesus, ‘Ganst storm, and wind, and tide;— Fill’d with His likeness rise, Now, like a weary traveller, To live and to adore Him, That leaneth on his guide, To see Him with these eyes: Amid the shades of evening, ‘Tween me and resurrection While sinks life’s ling’ring sand, But Paradise doth stand; I hail the glory dawning Then–then for glory dwelling From Immanuel’s land. In Immanuel’s land! 12. Deep waters cross’d life’s pathway, 17. The bride eyes not her garment, The hedge of thorns was sharp; But her dear Bridegroom’s face; Now these lie all behind me,— I will not gaze at glory, Oh, for a well-tuned harp! But on my King of Grace— Oh, to join Hallelujah Not at the crown He giveth, With yon triumphant band, But on His pierced hand: Who sing where glory dwelleth The Lamb is all the glory In Immanuel’s land! Of Immanuel’s land. 13. With mercy and with judgement 18. I have borne scorn and hatred, My web of time He wove, I have borne wrong and shame, And aye the dews of sorrow Earth’s proud ones have reproach’d me, Were lustered with His love! For Christ’s thrice blessed name: I’ll bless the hand that guided, Where God His seal set fairest I’ll bless the heart that plann’d, They’ve stamp’d their foulest brand; When throned where glory dwelleth But judgment shines like noonday In Immanuel’s land. In Immanuel’s land. 14. Soon shall the cup of glory 19. They’ve summoned me before them, Wash down earth’s bitterest woes, But there I may not come,— Soon shall the desert brier My Lord says, “Come up hither,” Break into Eden’s rose: My Lord says, ”Welcome home!” The curse shall change to blessing— My King now at His white throne, The name on earth that’s bann’d, My presence doth command, Be graven on the white stone Where glory–glory dwelleth In Immanuel’s land. In Immanuel’s land. 15. Oh! 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 Sands of Time Are Sinking” Words based on the Letters of Samuel Rutherford (1600–1661) From Immanuel’s Land and Other Pieces by Anne Ross Cousin (1857) Music arranged from Chrétien Urhan (1834) by Edward F. Rimbault (1867) ©Public Domain kenpulsmusic.com .