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.

The King there in His beauty, without a veil is seen:
It were a well spent journey, though seven deaths lay between:
The Lamb with His fair army, doth 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 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 pierced hand;
The Lamb is all the glory of 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.

Words: Anne R. Cousin, printed in The Christian Treasury,1857