William Cowper,
There is a fountain filled with blood
“ Dear dying Lamb, thy precious blood Shall never lose its pow'r; Till all the ransomed church of God Be saved, to sin no more. 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. Then in a nobler sweeter song I'll sing thy pow'r to save When this poor lisping stamm'ring tongue Lies silent in the grave. Lord, I believe thou hast prepared (Unworthy though I be) For me a blood-bought free reward, A golden harp for me! 'Tis strung, and tuned, for endless years, And formed by pow'r divine ”
