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1 There is a fountain fill'd with blood
Drawn from Immanuel's veins;
And sinners, plung'd beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains.
2 The dying thief rejoic'd to see
That fountain in his day;
And may I there, though vile as he,
Wash all my sins away!
3 Dear dying Lamb, thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power
Till all the ransom'd church of God
Be sav'd, 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 But when this lisping, stammering tongue
Lies silent in the grave,
Then in a nobler, sweeter song
I'll sing thy power to save.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | There is a fountain fill'd with blood |
Title: | Praise for the Fountain opened |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1790 |