Text Based On 1 Corinthians Chapter 10
And did all drink the same spiritual drink: for they drank of that
spiritual Rock that followed them: and that Rock was Christ.

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.

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.

Oft in yon sea beat prison My Lord and I held tryst,
For Anwoth was not heaven, and preaching was not Christ:
And aye, my murkiest storm cloud was by a rainbow spanned,
Caught from the glory dwelling in Immanuel's land.

But that He built a Kingdom of His surpassing love,
A little new Jerusalem, like to the one above,
"Lord take me over the water" hath been my loud demand,
Take me to my love's own country, unto Immanuel's land.

With mercy and with judgment my web of time He wove,
And aye, the dews of sorrow were lustered with His love;
I'll bless the hand that guided, I'll bless the heart that planned
When throned where glory dwelleth in Immanuel's land.

Soon shall the cup of glory wash down earth's bitterest woes,
Soon shall the desert briar break into Eden's rose;
The curse shall change to blessing the name on earth that's banned
Be graven on the white stone in Immanuel's land.

O I am my Belovèd's and my Belovèd's mine!
He brings a poor vile sinner into His "house so fine."
I stand upon His merit — I know no other stand,
Not even where glory dwelleth in Immanuel's land.

I shall sleep sound in Jesus, filled with His likeness rise,
To love and to adore Him, to see Him with these eyes:
Tween me and resurrection but Paradise doth stand;
Then — then for glory dwelling 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 piercèd hand;
The Lamb is all the glory of Immanuel's land.

I have borne scorn and hatred, I have borne wrong and shame,
Earth's proud ones have reproached me for Christ's thrice blessèd Name:
Where God His seal set fairest they've stamped the foulest brand,
But judgment shines like noonday in Immanuel's land.

They've summoned me before them, but there I may not come,
My Lord says "Come up hither," My Lord says "Welcome home!"
My King, at His white throne, my presence doth command
Where glory — glory dwelleth in Immanuel's land.