There is a fountain filled with

Blood drawn from emmanuel'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 may I though vile as he

Washed all my sins away

Then in a nobler sweeter song

I'll sing thy power to save

When this poor lisping

Stammering tongue

Lies silent in the grave

Lies silent in the grave

Lies silent in the grave

When this poor lisping

Stammering tongue

Lies silent in the grave