Praise For The Fountain Opened. - Zechariah xiii.1.

There is a fountain filld with blood     Drawn from Emmanuels veins;     And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,     Lose all their guilty stains.     The dying thief rejoiced to see     That fountain in his day;     And there have I, as vile as he,     Washd all my sins away.     Dear dying Lamb, thy precious blood     Shall never lose its power,     Till all the ransomd church of God     Be saved to sin no more.     Eer 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,     Ill sing thy power to save;     When this poor lisping stammering 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 formd by power divine,     To sound in God the Fathers ears     No other name but thine.