597 The sands of time are sinking,

1 The sands of time are sinking, The dawn of heaven breaks, The summer morn I've sighed for, The fair, sweet morn awakes. O dark hath been the midnight, But dayspring is at hand, And glory, glory dwelleth In Immanuel's land. 2 O Christ, He 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 fullness His mercy doth expand, And glory, glory dwelleth In Immanuel's land. 3 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. 4 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.