There is a fountain filled with blood
Drawn from Immanuel’s veins
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains

The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in His day
And there have I, though vile as he
Washed all my sins away

Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood
Shall never lose its pow’r
Till all the ransomed church of God
Are safe, to sin no more

When this poor, lisping, stamm’ring tongue
Lies silent in the grave
Then in a nobler, sweeter song
I’ll sing Thy pow’r to save

William Cowper, Public Domain