There is a fountain filled with blood drawn from Immanuel’s veins,
And sinners plunged beneath that flood lose all their guilty stains!
Lose all their guilty stains!
The dying thief rejoiced to see that fountain in his day,
And there may I, though vile as he, wash all my sins away!
Wash all my sins away!
Dear dying Lamb, Your precious blood will never lose its power,
Till all the ransomed Church of God be saved to sin no more!
Be saved to sin no more!
E’er since by faith I saw the stream Your flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme and will be till I die!
And will be till I die!
When this poor lisping, stamm’ring tongue lies silent in the grave,
Then in a nobler, sweeter song, I’ll sing Your power to save!
I’ll sing Your power to save!