1 THERE is a stream of precious blood
Which flowed from Jesus' veins;
And sinners washed in that blest flood
Lose all their guilty stains.
2 The dying thief rejoiced to see
That Saviour in his day;
And by that blood, though vile as he,
My sins are washed away.
3 Blest Lamb of God, Thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power,
Till every ransomed saint of God
Be saved to sin no more.
4 E'er since by faith I saw the stream
Thy wounds supplied for me,
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall for ever be.
5 Soon in a nobler, sweeter song,
I'll sing Thy power to save;
No more with lisping, stammering tongue,
But conqueror o'er the grave.
6 Lord, I believe Thou hast prepared,
Unworthy though I be,
For me a blood-bought free reward,
A harp of God for me.
7 'Tis strung and tuned for endless years,
And formed by power divine,
To sound in God the Father's ears
No other name but Thine.