“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 safer 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.”