There is a stream of precious blood
Which flowed from Jesus' veins;
And sinners washed in that blest flood
Lose all their guilty stains.
Lose all their guilty stains,
Lose all their guilty stains,
And sinners washed in that blest flood
Lose all their guilty stains.
The dying thief rejoiced to see
That Saviour in his day;
And by that blood, though vile as he,
Our sins are washed away.
Our sins are washed away,
Our sins are washed away,
And by that blood, though vile as he,
Our sins are washed away.
Blest Lamb of God, Thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power,
Till every ransomed saint of God
Be saved to sin no more.
Be saved to sin no more,
Be saved to sin no more,
Till every ransomed saint of God
Be saved to sin no more.
E'er since, by faith, we saw the stream
Thy wounds supplied for sin,
Redeeming love has been our theme,
Our joy and peace has been.
Our joy and peace has been,
Our joy and peace has been,
Redeeming love has been our theme,
Our joy and peace has been.
Soon in a nobler, sweeter song,
We'll sing Thy power to save;
No more with lisping, stammering tongue,
But conquerors o'er the grave.
But conquerors o'er the grave,
But conquerors o'er the grave,
No more with lisping, stammering tongue,
But conquerors o'er the grave.