1 There is a stream of precious blood
Which flowed from Jesu's veins;
And sinners washd 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,
Our sins are washed away.
3 Blest Lamb of God, Thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power,
Till ev'ry ransomed saint of God
Be saved to sin no more.
4 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.
5 Soon in a nobler, sweeter song,
We'll sing Thy pow'r to save;
No more with lisping, stamm'ring tongue,
But conquerors o'er the grave.
6 Lord, we believe Thou hast prepared
(Unworthy though we be)
For us a blood-bought free reward,
And harps of minstrelsy.
7 Harps strung and tuned for endless years,
And formed by pow'r divine,
To sound in God the Father's ears,
No other name but Thine.
Source: A Few Hymns and Some Spiritual Songs. Selected 1856, for the Little Flock. Revised, 1881 #322