The wedding of the Lamb has come, and His bride has made herself ready.@Revelation 19:7
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Anne R. Cousin (1824-1906)

Anne R. Cousin, in The Christian Treasury, 1857. From this hymn came the title of Cousin’s 1876 work, Immanuel’s Land and Other Pieces by A. R. C.

Rutherford Chrétien d’Urhan, in Chants Chrétiens, 1834; arranged by Edward F. Rimbault, 1867 (🔊 pdf nwc).

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Chrétien d’Urhan (1790-1845)

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.

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.

Oh! Well it is forever,
Oh! well forevermore,
My nest hung in no forest
Of all this death doomed shore:
Yea, let the vain world vanish,
As from the ship the strand,
While glory—glory dwelleth
In Immanuel’s land.

There the red rose of Sharon
Unfolds its heartsome bloom
And fills the air of Heaven
With ravishing perfume:
Oh! To behold it blossom,
While by its fragrance fanned
Where 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.

Oft in yon sea beat prison
My Lord and I held tryst,
For Anwoth was not Heaven,
And preaching was not Christ:
And aye, my murkiest storm cloud
Was by a rainbow spanned,
Caught from the glory dwelling
In Immanuel’s land.

But that He built a Heaven
Of His surpassing love,
A little new Jerusalem,
Like to the one above,
Lord take me over the water,
Hath been my loud demand,
Take me to my love’s own country,
Unto Immanuel’s land.

But flowers need night’s cool darkness,
The moonlight and the dew;
So Christ, from one who loved it,
His shining oft withdrew:
And then, for cause of absence
My troubled soul I scanned
But glory shadeless shineth
In Immanuel’s land.

The little birds of Anwoth,
I used to count them blessed,
Now, beside happier altars
I go to build my nest:
O’er these there broods no silence,
No graves around them stand,
For glory, deathless, dwelleth
In Immanuel’s land.

Fair Anwoth by the Solway,
To me thou still art dear,
E’en from the verge of Heaven,
I drop for thee a tear.
Oh! If one soul from Anwoth
Meet me at God’s right hand,
My heav’n will be two heavens,
In Immanuel’s land.

I’ve wrestled on towards Heaven,
Against storm and wind and tide,
Now, like a weary traveler
That leaneth on his guide,
Amid the shades of evening,
While sinks life’s lingering sand,
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,
Oh! for a well tuned harp!
Oh! To join hallelujah
With yon triumphant band,
Who sing where glory dwelleth
In Immanuel’s land.

With mercy and with judgment
Wy 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.

Soon shall the cup of glory
Wash down earth’s bitterest woes,
Soon shall the desert briar
Break into Eden’s rose;
The curse shall change to blessing
The name on earth that’s banned
Be graven on the white stone
In Immanuel’s land.

O I am my Belovèd’s
And my Belovèd’s mine!
He brings a poor vile sinner
Into His house of wine.
I stand upon His merit—
I know no other stand,
Not e’en 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 piercèd hand;
The Lamb is all the glory
Of Immanuel’s land.

I have borne scorn and hatred,
I have borne wrong and shame,
Earth’s proud ones have reproached me
For Christ’s thrice blessed name:
Where God His seal set fairest
They’ve stamped the foulest brand,
But judgment shines like noonday
In 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.