There is a fountain filled with blood

Drawn from Immanuel’s veins;

And sinners plunged beneath that flood,

Loose all their guilty stains.

2 The dying thief rejoiced to see

That fountain in his day;

And there have I, as vile as he,

Washed all my sins away.

3 O Lamb of God, 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 And when this lisping, stammering tongue

Lies silent in the grave,

Then, in a nobler, sweeter song,

I’ll sing thy power to save.