The
Sands of Time
The longer we live, the closer we get to the end of
times. It seems dark and dreary at times, but dawn always comes and we have
hope in what is ahead of us. We might like fresh water here, but in heaven it
is the freshest, sweetest, tastiest. It is God’s love. The Lamb is all the
glory.
Lyrics by Ann Ross Cousin, arranged by Edward F. Rimbault
“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 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 fulness, His mercy doth expand, and
glory, glory dwelleth in Immanuel’s land.
Oh, 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 even where 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.
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