248		CM
	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