There are some poets who help me set my mind on “things above, where Christ is.” Who does that for you?
Thank you Ann Ross Cousin!
The sands of time are sinking,
The dawn of heaven breaks;
The summer morn Ive sighed for -
The fair, sweet morn awakes:
Dark, dark had been the midnight
But dayspring is at hand,
And glory, glory dwelleth
In Emmanuels 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 Emmanuels land
O Christ, He is the fountain,
The deep, sweet well of love!
The streams on earth Ive tasted
More deep Ill drink above:
There to an ocean fullness
His mercy doth expand,
And glory, glory dwelleth
In Emmanuels land.
The bride eyes not her garment,
But her dear Bridegrooms face;
I will not gaze at glory
But on my King of grace.
Not at the crown He giveth
But on His pierced hand;
The Lamb is all the glory
Of Emmanuels land.
O I am my Beloveds
And my Beloved is mine!
He brings a poor vile sinner
Into His house of wine
I stand upon His merit -
I know no other stand,
Not een where glory dwelleth
In Emmanuels land.
Written by Anne Ross Cousin from Roxburghshire in Scotland and was first published in 1857 in The Christian Treasury.
Musings from Pastor John, November 29, Click to Email Pastor John