Investigating a bit further, I discovered that the song on SoundCloud is an adaptation of a hymn (19 stanzas long!), "The Sands of Time Are Sinking," also by Anne Ross Cousin. This hymn apparently incorporates so much wording from the works of Samuel Rutherford (1600-1661) that according to one source it was originally entitled "The Last Words of Samuel Rutherford." I say "apparently" because this was the first I'd heard of Samuel Rutherford, but I plan to explore his work first hand -- beginning with his letters, which are his best-known writings. I am always very grateful to the Lord when He uses one blessing (such as the discovery of this wonderful song) to open up paths to a multi-layered blessing. My thanks to Him, and to Kevin, Anne, and Samuel.
I've chosen "The fair, sweet morn awakes" as the title of this post because this song has much more to do with being restored to the arms of the Saviour than it has to do with time's sinking sands.
I am very pleased to share this song with you here:
Performed on SoundCloud by (I presume)
Kevin Norman MacDonald (kevinnorman23)
"The Sands of Time Are Sinking" ("Immanuel's Land")
as sung by kevinnorman23
Adapted slightly from selected verses
of the hymn by Anne Ross Cousin
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 of 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.
But that He built a Heaven
Of His surpassing love,
A little New Jerusalem,
Like to the one above,
"Lord take me o'er the water,"
Hath been my loud demand,
Take me to my Love’s own country,
Unto Immanuel’s land.
O I am my Beloved’s
And my Beloved’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’ve wrestled on towards Heaven,
In storm and wind and tide,
Now, like a weary traveller
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.
With mercy and with judgement
My web of time He wove,
And aye, the dews of sorrow
Were lustred 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.
I will 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;
And glory, shapeless, shining
From 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
In 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 hath been the midnight,
But dayspring is at hand,
And glory, glory dwelleth
In Immanuel’s land.