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BOOK I. 1 THERE is a fountain fill d with blood Drawn from Emmanuel s veins ; And sinners plunged beneath that flood Lose all their guilty stains.

2 The dying thief rejoiced to see That fountain in his day ; And there have I, as vile as he, Wash d all my sins away.

3 Dear dying Lamb, thy precious blood Shall never lose its power Till all the ransom d church of God Be saved, to sin no more.

4 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.

5 Then in a nobler, sweeter song, I ll sing thy power to save, When this poor lisping stamm ring tongue Lies silent in the grave.

6 Lord, I believe thou hast prepared (Unworthy though I be,) For me a blood-bought free reward, A golden harp for me !

7 Tis strung, and tuned for endless years, And form d by power divine ; To sound in God the Father s ears No other name but thine.

1 WHEN sinners utter boasting words, And glory in their shame, The Lord, well pleased, an ear affords, To those who fear his name. Rh