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 dayspring is at hand,


And glory, glory dwelleth in Immanuel’s land.

Charleston, SC

 O Christ, He is the fountain, the deep, sweet well of love!


The streams of 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. 

Isleofpalms1724

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 even where glory dwelleth in Immanuel’s land.

Isleofpalms1715 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.

 

~Anne R. Cousin

*pictures taken in Charleston and Isle of Palms, SC

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