527 | CM | ||
FOR ever here my rest shall be, Close to Thy wounded side; This all my hope and all my plea For me the Saviour died. |
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2 | My dying Saviour and my God, Fountain for guilt and sin, Sprinkle me ever with Thy blood, And cleanse, and keep me clean. |
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3 | Wash me, and make me thus Thine own; Wash me, and mine Thou art; Wash me, but not my feet alone: My hands, my head, my heart. |
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4 | The atonement of Thy blood apply, Till faith to sight improve; Till hope in full fruition die, And all my soul be love. |
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Charles Wesley, 1707-88 |