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 had been the midnight But dayspring is at hand, And glory, glory dwelleth In Emmanuel’s land. O Christ, He is the fountain, The deep, sweet well of love! The streams on earth I’ve taste More deep I’ll drink above: There to an ocean fullness His mercy doth expand, And glory, glory dwelleth In Emmanuel’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 Emmanuel’s land. O I am my Beloved’s And my Beloved is mine! He brings a poor vile sinner Into His house of wine I stand upon His merit - I know no other stand, ...