“Immanuel’s Land” has a unique history in Christian hymnody. Also known by its first line, “The Sands of Time are Sinking,” the hymn was first published from Roxburghshire, Scotland, in 1857 by Anne Ross Cousin, wife of a minister of the Free Church of Scotland. The hymn, however, has an even deeper history. 

“Immanuel’s Land” is based on a collection of letters written by Samuel Rutherford (1600-1661), also from Roxburghshire, some two hundred years prior to Mrs. Cousin publishing the hymn. Rutherford was a towering figure of the seventeenth century. Before representing Scotland in 1644 at the Westminster Assembly and assisting in writing the Westminster Confession of Faith,  Rutherford pastored a small church in Anwoth from 1627-1636. 

During the nine years at Anwoth, Rutherford had both joys and sorrows. In 1630, his wife became ill and died. His two children soon followed her in death. When he speaks of “alters” in verse 9, where “no graves around them stand,” his personal grief and his hope in Christ is apparent. Rutherford was known for his personal piety, loving pastoral heart, and profound love for Christ, both in preaching and practice. Rutherford died on March 30, 1661. It is recorded that his dying words were, “Glory, glory dwelleth in Immanuel’s Land.” It was this quote that stirred the heart of Anne Ross Cousin almost two hundred years later to set the words of Rutherford into a hymn. The hymn is a marvelous testimony of treasuring Christ above all else in this life and the next.

Today, we sing a shortened version of “Immanuel’s Land” written by Audrey Assad. May it be a hymn you hold fast until you arrive in Immaneul’s Land. 

Immanuel’s Land (The Sands of Time Are Sinking)

Oh, Christ, He is a fountain, a deep sweet well of love
The streams that I have tasted, more deep I'll drink above
And fuller than the ocean, His mercy does expand

Glory, glory, in Immanuel's land
Oh, glory, glory, glory, in Immanuel's land

Oh, I am my Beloved's, and my Beloved's mine
He brings this weary sinner, into His house of wine
I stand upon His merit, I know no other stand

Glory, glory, in Immanuel's land
Oh, glory, glory, glory, in Immanuel's land

A 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 gives me, but on His pierced hand

Glory, glory, in Immanuel's land
Oh, glory, glory, glory, in Immanuel's land
Glory, glory, in Immanuel's land
Oh, glory, glory, glory, in Immanuel's land
Glory, glory, in Immanuel's land
Oh, glory, glory, glory, in Immanuel's land
Oh, glory, glory, in Immanuel's land
Oh, glory, glory, glory, in Immanuel's land