The Sands of Time Are Sinking

A fantastic conversation I had with a friend today about heaven prompted me to think of this hymn, which will be familiar to some of you. To my shame, we have not yet sung it in worship (some of my friends will be aghast at this!). Though the words to this hymn were written by Anne Cousin, the wife of a Free Church of Scotland minister in the nineteenth century, they are based upon and drawn largely from the Letters of Samuel Rutherford (the man I did my Ph.D. on--now you know why some of my friends will be shocked that we haven't sung it!). Rutherford's last words, as he lay dying in 1661, were reputedly: "Glory, glory dwelleth in Immanuel's land!" I wanted to share the hymn with you as encouragement.

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 day-spring is at hand, and glory, glory dwelleth in Emmanuel'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 Emmanuel's land.

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 fulness his mercy doth expand, and glory, glory dwelleth in Emmanuel's land.

The bride eyes not her garment, but her dear bride-groom's face; I will not gaze at glory, but on my King of grace; not at the crown he gifteth, but on his pierced hand: the Lamb is all the glory of Emmanuel's land.

Amen!