Hymn of the week in the midst of boxes…

We are in the midst of settling into a new home right now, and I’m sure there will be more to come on that once we have sorted out the boxes of books more fully.  We have moved home once more, but this hymn reminds us that we are not finally at home.

It is an unusual hymn, written by Anne Cousins in the 19th century in memorial of the ministry of Samuel Rutherford in the 17th century. Rutherford ministered in the Scottish village of Anwoth on the Solway Firth, and the hymn is apparently inspired by quotes from his letters.

The sung version in most hymn books is 5 or 6 verses of this hymn, and there are actually 19 – I’ve edited it down a little. The hymns focus on Jesus reminded me of one of the less often quoted parts of the end of the Last Battle:

“The light ahead was growing stronger. Lucy saw that a great series of many-coloured cliffs led up in front of them like a giant’s staircase. And then she forgot everything else, because Aslan himself was coming, leaping down from cliff to cliff like a living cataract of power and beauty.”

So without further ado to the hymn itself.

  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. 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.
  3. 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.
  4. 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.
  5. 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.
  6. But flowers need nights 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.
  7. Fair Anwoth by the Solway, to me thou still art dear,
    Even 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 heaven will be two heavens, In Immanuel’s land.
  8. 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.
  9. With mercy and with judgment my 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.
  10. 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.
  11. 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 even where glory dwelleth in Immanuel’s land.
  12. 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.
  13. 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 pierced hand;
    The Lamb is all the glory of Immanuel’s land.

Anne R Cousin, inspired by Samuel Rutherford.

 

 


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This entry was posted in Hymns.

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