Praise for the Fountain Opened
There is a fountain filld with blood
Drawn from Emmanuels 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, as vile as he,
Washd all my sins away.
Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power,
Till all the ransomd church of God
Be saved, to sin no more.
Eer since, by faith, I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be till I die.
Then in a nobler, sweeter song,
Ill sing Thy power to save;
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue
Lies silent in the grave.
Lord I believe Thou hast prepared
(Unworthy though I be)
For me a blood-bought free reward,
A golden harp for me!
Tis strung and tuned for endless years,
And formd by power divine,
To sound in God the Fathers ears
No other name but Thine.