There is a fountain filled with blood,
Drawn from Immanuel's veins,
And sinners plunged beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains.
Cho. -- Oh, glorious fountain!
Here will I stay,
And in thee ever
Wash my sins away.
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 Thou dying Lamb, thy precious blood,
Shall never lose its power,
Till all the ransomed church of God,
Are 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 feeble, faltering tongue
Lies silent in the grave,
Then in a nobler, sweeter song,
I'll sing thy power to save.
William Cowper, 1779.
187 Siloam. C.M.
The All-Sufficient Grace. (488)
When wounded sore, the stricken soul
Lies bleeding and unbound:
One hand alone, a pierced hand,
Can heal the sinner's wound.
2 When sorrow swells the laden breast,
And tears of anguish flow,
One heart alone, a broken heart,
Can feel the sinner's woe.
3 'Tis Jesus' blood that washes white,
His hand, that brings relief;
His heart, that's touched with all our joys,
And feeleth for our grief.
4 Lift up thy bleeding hand, O Lord!
Unseal that cleansing tide;
We have no shelter from our sin,
But in thy wounded side.
Mrs. Cecil F. Alexander, 1858.