As for me, I will see Your face in righteousness; I shall be satisfied when I awake in Your likeness. (Psalm 17:15)
The phrase “death-bed exercise” sounds exceedingly
gloomy and rather funereal. However, quite the opposite
is true. It was the hope and plan of many of our
Christian forbears to give a strong, joyous testimony to
family and friends as they crossed from this life into
the next.
Such was the case of the 17th century Scottish preacher
Samuel Rutherford. His last words included one of his
final sermons based on the glorious text of
Revelation 22:4. “They shall see His face and
His name shall be on their foreheads.”
Over 200 years later, Scottish poet and writer Anne Ross Cousin compiled many of Rutherford’s thoughts and penned this great hymn. It is filled with breathtaking imagery, but more so, it is filled with Christ. In “The Sands of Time Are Sinking” we uncover the expressions of a dying saint. Yet there is no fear, trepidation, or alarm.
Samuel Rutherford, likened his life to an hour-glass, the sands of which were running out as he took his last breath here on earth. Yet, there was a reality which held him spellbound. His enraptured utterances were those of one who saw his eternal home not far away as faith gave way to sight. It was Immanuel’s land. Yet, outshining the glory of his heavenly dwelling is Immanuel Himself, “God with us.”
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 day-spring 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 on earth I’ve tasted more deep I’ll drink above:
There to an ocean fulness His mercy doth expand,
And glory, glory dwelleth in 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.
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.