70. There is a fountain filled with blood, Drawn
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 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.