The Sands of Time are Sinking
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 fulness His mercy doth expand,
And glory, 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 bridegrooms 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.
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 fulness His mercy doth expand,
And glory, 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 bridegrooms 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.
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