The Sands of Time Are Sinking

by Jonathan Hamilton

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 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.

The king there in His beauty,
Without a veil is seen:
It were a well-spent journey,
Though seven deaths lay between:
The Lamb with His fair army,
Doth on Mount Zion stand,
And glory, 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.


Written by Anne R. Cousin, 1857 | The hymn is much longer and the rest of the verses can be viewed at: http://cyberhymnal.org/htm/s/a/sandtime.htm

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