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Immanuel's Land!
(by Gene Fedele, edited)
What can be more delightful for the weary pilgrim
who is hastening to his heavenly mansion than to
meditate on the unspeakable wonders of his future
home beyond the skies?
There is much of Immanuel's Land to engage our
hearts in sacred contemplation even while we sojourn
and toil in this world as strangers and pilgrims.
Heaven is the most cheering and attractive occupation
to which we may set our hearts. Yet I wonder why many
of us fail to avail ourselves of the enjoyment and
spiritual strength afforded in such a holy pursuit.
Could it be that the allurements of the world keep
us from recognizing how near we are to the unseen,
supernatural, and eternal state? Instead of dwelling
on the world to come, do we choose to become
subjects of the mere momentary pleasures of time?
We do well to examine ourselves, with judgement day
honesty, that we may check the affections of our heart.
It is the influence of the future, heavenly realities
exercised in our hearts and lives which gives vitality
and beauty to our religion. It reveals genuine piety
as our aim in contrast to the passing pleasures of
this fleeting earth. It affords light along the path of
life's dark trials and points to the realms of bliss,
where there shall be no more tears and sorrow is
banished forevermore!
The glorious rest that remains for our earth wearied
souls; the sweet consolation of the redeemed in glory;
the unending fellowship of that precious society of
saints; the incalculable riches laid up in store for us
to receive on that glorious day; are all facets of
Immanuel's Land prepared before the world began,
that we might set an adoring eye towards the one
object of our affections, Christ Jesus our Lord!
Let us, therefore, 'set our affections on things above'
and fix our hearts steadfastly upon the heavenly joys
and glory of Immanuel's Land!
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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's fullness,
His mercy does expand,
And glory, glory dwelleth,
In Immanuel's land.
O I am my Beloved's,
And my Beloved is 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 the King of grace.
Not at the crown He giveth,
But on His pierced hands,
The Lamb is all the glory
Of Immanuel's land!
(author unknown)
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