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 e'en where glory dwelleth, in Immanuel's land.

The bride eyes not her garment, but her dear Bride-groom'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.

Anne Ross Cousin