Let the imagery of this hymn sink in and form you:
There is a fountain filled with blood drawn from Immanuel's veins,
And sinners plunged beneath that flood lose all their guilty stains:
Lose all their guilty stains, lose all their guilty stains;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood lose all their guilty stains.
The dying thief rejoiced to see that fountain in his day,
And there may I, though vile as he, wash all my sins away:
Wash all my sins away, wash all my sins away;
And there may I though vile as he, wash all my sins away.
Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood shall never lose its pow'r,
Till all the ransomed Church of God be saved to sin no more.
Be saved to sin no more, be saved to sin no more;
Till all the ransomed Church of God be save to sin no more.
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:
And shall be till I die, and shall be till I die;
Redeeming love has my theme and shall be till I die.
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:
I'll sing Thy pow'r to save, I'll sing Thy pow'r to save;
Then in a nobler, sweeter song I'll sing Thy pow'r to save.
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