Precious Blood

The blood has al­ways pre­cious been

’Tis pre­cious now to me;

Through it alone my soul has rest

From fear and doubt set free.

Oh

won­drous is the crim­son tide

Which from my Sav­ior flowed

And still in Heav’n my song shall be

The pre­cious

pre­cious

blood.

I will re­mem­ber now no more

God’s faith­ful Word has said

The fol­lies and the sins of him

For whom My Son has bled.

Not all my well-re­mem­bered sins

Can star­tle or dis­may;

The pre­cious blood atones for all

And bears my guilt away.

Perhaps this fee­ble frame of mine

Will soon in sick­ness lie

But rest­ing on the pr­ecious blood

How peace­ful­ly I’ll die.