Blessèd Be the Fountain

Blessèd be the fount­ain of blood

To a world of sin­ners re­vealed;

Blessèd be the dear Son of God;

Only by His stripes we are healed.

Tho’ I’ve wan­dered far from His fold

Bringing to my heart pain and woe

Wash me in the blood of the Lamb

And I shall be whit­er than snow.

Whiter than the snow

Whiter than the snow

Wash me in the blood of the Lamb

And I shall be whit­er than snow.

Thorny was the crown that He wore

And the cross His bo­dy o’er­came;

Grievous were the sor­rows He bore

But He suf­fered thus not in vain.

May I to that fount­ain be led

Made to cleanse my sins here be­low;

Wash me in the blood that He shed

And I shall be whit­er than snow.

Father

I have wan­dered from Thee

Often has my heart gone as­tray;

Crimson do my sins seem to me—

Water can­not wash them away.

Jesus

to the fount­ain of Thine

Leaning on Thy pro­mise

I go;

Cleanse me by Thy wash­ing di­vine

And I shall be whit­er than snow.