| There is a fountain filled with blood
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| Drawn from Immanuel’s veins;
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| And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
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| Lose all their guilty stains:
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| Lose all their guilty stains,
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| Lose all their guilty stains;
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| And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
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| Lose all their guilty stains.
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| The dying thief rejoiced to see
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| That fountain in his day;
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| And there may I, though vile as he,
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| Wash all my sins away:
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| Wash all my sins away,
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| Wash all my sins away;
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| And there may I, though vile as he,
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| Wash all my sins away.
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| Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood
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| Shall never lose its power,
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| Till all the ransomed ones of God
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| Be saved, to sin no more:
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| Be saved, to sin no more,
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| Be saved, to sin no more;
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| Till all the ransomed ones of God,
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| Be saved to sin no more.
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| E’er since by faith I saw the stream
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| Thy flowing wounds supply,
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| Redeeming love has been my theme,
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| And shall be till I die:
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| And shall be till I die,
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| And shall be till I die;
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| Redeeming love has been my theme,
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| And shall be till I die.
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| When this poor lisping, stammering tongue
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| Lies silent in the grave,
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| Then in a nobler, sweeter song,
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| I’ll sing Thy power to save:
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| I’ll sing Thy power to save,
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| I’ll sing Thy power to save;
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| Then in a nobler, sweeter song,
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| I’ll sing Thy power to save. |