~* THE SANDS OF TIME ARE SINKING *~
Anne Ross Cousin, 1824-1906

As for me, I will behold thy face in righteousness: I shall be satisfied, when I awake, with thy likeness.
Psalm 17:15

What beautiful pictures of Christ and our relationship to Him as His bride are portrayed for us in this lovely hymn text which was inspired by the dying words of a 17th Century Scottish preacher. The colorful imagery enhances the truths of these very thoughtful lines.

"And glory, glory dwelleth in Immanuel's Land" were the final triumphant words spoken by Samuel Rutherford, a forceful evangelistic preacher who suffered much persecution in Scotland for his support of the non-conformist movement. His open opposition to the state church resulted in banishment from his pulpit and home. When his courageous loyalty to Christ continued throughout his life, Rutherford was eventually charged with high treason, which could mean being beheaded. Already on his death bed, however, he sent back this message: "I behoove to answer my first summons, and ere your day for me arrive, I will be where few kings and great folks come."

Two hundred years after the death of Rutherford in 1661, his victorious life, writings, and final words so impressed Anne Ross Cousin that she was moved to write this remarkable text. Mrs. Cousin describes vividly the glories of Heaven. Her wonderful closing proclamation that "the Lamb is all the glory" is a fitting climax to the hymn's vibrant exaltation of Christ and His eternal abode.


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.

The King there in His beauty, without a veil is seen:
It were a well-spent journey, though sev'n deaths lay between:
The Lamb with His fair army, shall on Mount Zion stand,
And glory, glory dwelleth in Immanuel’s land.

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 e'en where glory dwelleth in Immanuel’s land.

The poem in its completeness is many verses with personal references to elements of Samuel Rutherford's earthly pilgrimage.
ALL VERSES:

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.

Oh! Well it is forever, Oh! well forevermore,
My nest hung in no forest of all this death-doomed shore:
Yea, let the vain world vanish, as from the ship the strand,
While glory, glory dwelleth in Immanuel’s land.

There the Red Rose of Sharon unfolds its heartsome bloom
And fills the air of Heaven with ravishing perfume:
Oh! To behold it blossom, while by its fragrance fanned
Where 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 sev'n deaths lay between:
The Lamb with His fair army, shall on Mount Zion stand,
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 flow'rs need nights' cool darkness, the moonlight and the dew;
So Christ, from one who loved it, His shining oft withdrew:
And then, for cause of absence my troubled soul I scanned
But glory shadeless shineth in Immanuel’s land.

The little birds of Anwoth, I used to count them blessed,
Now, beside happier altars I go to build my nest:
O'er these there broods no silence, no graves around them stand,
For glory, deathless, dwelleth in Immanuel’s land.

Fair Anwoth by the Solway, to me thou still art dear,
E'en from the verge of Heaven, I drop for thee a tear.
Oh! If one soul from Anwoth meet me at God’s right hand,
My Heav'n will be two Heavens, In Immanuel’s land.

I’ve wrestled on towards Heaven, 'gainst storm and wind and tide,
Now, like a weary trav'ler that leaneth on his guide,
Amid the shades of evening, while sinks life’s lingering sand,
I hail the glory dawning from Immanuel’s land.

Deep waters crossed life’s pathway, the hedge of thorns was sharp;
Now, these lie all behind me. Oh! for a well tuned harp!
Oh! To join hallelujah with yon triumphant band,
Who sing where glory dwelleth in 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 in the books there in Immanuel’s land.

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 e'en 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 pierced 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 blessed 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 great throne, my presence doth command
Where glory—glory dwelleth in Immanuel’s land.



*For Today*: John 17:3; Romans 13:14; Ephesians 3:14-21; Hebrew 12:2

Learn to say, "My goal is Christ Himself, not joy, nor peace, not even Heaven; but Himself, my Lord." Even now, as we anticipate the joy of "Immanuel's Land" and the sight of His dear face, let us look away from ourselves and the cares of life and focus on the author and finisher of our faith.

Music url: The CyberHymnal

Taken from Amazing Grace -- 366 Inspiring Hymn Stories for Daily Devotions © Copyright 1990 by Kenneth W. Osbeck. Published by Kregel Publications, Grand Rapids, MI. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

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