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The sands of time are sinking

The sands of time are sinking;
the dawn of heaven breaks:
the summer morn I’ve longed for,
the fair, sweet morn awakes.
Dark, dark has been the midnight
but sunrise is at hand
with glory, glory dwelling
in Immanuel’s land.

2. The King in all his beauty
without a veil is seen;
it were a well-spent journey
though seven deaths lay between.
The Lamb and all his ransomed
upon Mount Zion stand
with glory, glory dwelling
in Immanuel’s land.

3. Christ Jesus 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 will expand
with glory, glory dwelling
in Immanuel’s land.

4. With mercy and with judgement
my web of time he wove
and every dew of sorrow
was glistening with his love.
I’ll bless the hand that guided,
I’ll bless the heart that planned,
when in his glory dwelling
in Immanuel’s land.

5. 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 gives me
but on his nail-pierced hand;
the Lamb is all the glory
of Immanuel’s land.

6. I’ve wrestled on towards heaven
through storm and wind and tide;
now, like a weary traveller
who leans upon his guide,
with evening shadows closing
while sinks life’s lingering sand,
I greet the glory dawning
from Immanuel’s land.

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