Immanuel's Land

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 has been the midnight;But dayspring is at hand:And glory, glory dwellethIn Immanuel's land,And glory, glory dwellethIn Immanuel's land.

I've wrestled on to'ard heaven,'Gainst storm and wind and tide;Now, like a weary trav'lerThat leaneth on his guide,Amid the shades of evening,While sinks life's ling'ring sand,I hail the glory dawning,From Immanuel's land,I hail the glory dawning,From Immanuel's land.

Deep waters crossed life's pathway,The hedge of thorns was sharp;Now these lie all behind me;—O for a well-tuned harp!O for the "hallelujah,"With yon triumphant band!Who sing where glory dwelleth,In Immanuel's land,Who sing where glory dwelleth,In Immanuel's land.