There is a fountain filled with blood, Drawn from Immanuel'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, though vile as he, Wash all my sins away.
3. 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. in praise every
4. Then in a nobler, sweeter song I'll sing Thy power to save, When this poor lisping, stammering tongue Lies silent in the grave.