There is a fountain filled with blood
1 There is a fountain filled with blood
Drawn from Immanuel's veins;
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains.
2 The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in his day;
And there may I, though vile as he,
Wash all my sins away.
3 Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power,
Till all the ransomed Church of God
Be saved, to sin no more.
4 E'er since by faith I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be till I die.
5 Then in a nobler, sweeter song
I'll sing Thy power to save.
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue
Lies silent in the grave.
6 Lord, I believe Thou hast prepared, Unworthy though I be, For me a blood-bought free reward, A golden harp for me.
7 Tis strung and tuned for endless years. And formed, by power divine, To sound in God the Fatherís earís No other name but Thine.