|THERE is a fountain filled with blood
Drawn from Emmanuel’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, as 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.
|William Cowper, 1731-1800|