There Is a Fountain

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. 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. Then in a nobler, sweeter song I'll sing Thy power to save, When this poor lisping, stammering tongue Lies silent in the grave.