Anne Ross Cousin, inspired by Samuel Rutherford's letters, wrote a poem which later was compiled into this great hymn. While there are many great hymns that I love and warmly embrace, I believe this hymn may top them all. It seems, that no hymn warms my heart like this one. Through the years it has been sung sparingly, I must admit it's sound is a bit melancholy, but do not allow that to keep you from enjoying it. Its words and message are one of the sweetest I've ever read or sung. For the truth and sweetness of it, it is one of my favorites. I hope you will enjoy it.
The Sands of Time are Sinking
The Sands of Time are Sinking
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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