1 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. 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 judgement, My web of time He wove, And aye the dews of sorrow, Were lustred by His love; I’ll bless the hand that planned, When throned where glory dwelleth, In Immanuel’s land. 4 I’ve wrestled on towards heaven, Gainst storm and wind and tide; Now like aweary traveler, That leaneth on his guide, Amid the shades of evening, While sinks life’s lingering sand, I hail the glory dawning , In Immanuel’s land.