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,
lose all their guilty stains;
and sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
lose all their guilty stains.
The dying thief rejoiced to see
that fountain in his day;
and there have I, as vile as he,
washed all my sins away:
washed all my sins away,
washed all my sins away;
and there have I, as vile as he,
washed all my sins away.
E’er since by faith I saw the stream
your flowing wounds supply,
redeeming love has been my theme,
and shall be ’til I die:
and shall be ’til I die,
and shall be ’til I die;
redeeming love has been my theme,
and shall be ’til I die.
Then in a nobler, sweeter song
I’ll sing your pow’r to save,
when this poor lisping, stamm’ring tongue
lies silent in the grave:
lies silent in the grave,
lies silent in the grave;
when this poor lisping, stamm’ring tongue
lies silent in the grave.
Dear dying Lamb, your precious blood
shall never lose its pow’r,
’til all the ransomed church of God
be saved to sin no more:
be saved to sin no more,
be saved to sin no more;
’til all the ransomed church of God
be saved to sin no more.