1 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.

2 Oh, 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 ev'n where glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.

3 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.