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Tamil Pamalai

The Sands Of Time Christian Song Lyrics

in Nandri – 4

LYRIC

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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.

Oh, 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.

With mercy and with judgement
my web of time He wove,
and aye the dews of sorrow
were lustred by 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.

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.

I’ve wrestled on towards heaven,
gainst 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
in Immanuel’s land

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The Sands Of Time Christian Song Lyrics

The Sands Of Time Christian Song Lyrics

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.

Oh, 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.

With mercy and with judgement
my web of time He wove,
and aye the dews of sorrow
were lustred by 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.

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.

I’ve wrestled on towards heaven,
gainst 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
in Immanuel’s land