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 dwellethIn Emmanuel'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 dwellethIn Emmanuel's land.Oh, I am my Beloved's,And my Beloved's mine!He brings a poor vile sinnerInto His "house of wine."I stand upon His merit,I know no other stand,Not e'en where glory dwellethIn 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 givethBut on His piercèd hand,The Lamb is all the gloryOf Emmanuel's land.