| O Christ He is a fountain, a deep sweet well of love
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| The streams that I have tasted, more deep I’ll drink above
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| And fuller than the ocean, His mercy does expand
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| Glory, glory, in Immanuel’s land
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| Oh, glory, glory, glory, in Immanuel’s land
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| Oh, I am my Beloved’s, and my Beloved’s mine
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| He brings this weary sinner into His house of wine
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| I stand upon His merit, I know no other stand
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| Glory, glory, in Immanuel’s land
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| Oh, glory, glory, glory, in Immanuel’s land
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| A bride eyes not her garment but her dear bridegroom’s face
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| I will not gaze at glory but on my King of grace
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| Not at the crown He gives me but on His pierced hand!
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| Glory, glory, in Immanuel’s land
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| Oh, glory, glory, glory, in Immanuel’s land
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| Glory, glory, in Immanuel’s land
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| Oh, glory, glory, glory, in Immanuel’s land
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| Oh, glory, glory, in Immanuel’s land
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| Oh, glory, glory, glory, in Immanuel’s land
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| Oh, glory, glory, in Immanuel’s land
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| Oh, glory, glory, glory, in Immanuel’s land! |