THERE IS A FOUNTAIN FILLED WITH BLOOD written in 1772
The Story
William Cowper suffered from deep depression for most of his life. In 1764, he even found himself in an institution for the mentally ill. There, in that asylum, William found Christ through reading the Bible.
Despite his emotional pain – or maybe because of it – William produced literature of amazing insight. He is still well-known in literary circles as one of England’s greatest poets.
This hymn is based on Zechariah 13:1, which says, “On that day a fountain will be opened up in the house of David… to cleanse them from sin and impurity”. William wrote this hymn after one of his first major bouts with depression; he was grabbing on to any assurance of God’s forgiveness he could find. He always felt guilty, unworthy of Christ’s love. But, like the dying thief, he found the precious fountain could wash all his sins away.
William Cowper would certainly be surprised that this work of his “poor lisping, stammering tongue” has filled the hearts and mouths of millions upon millions who also claim the blood of Christ as their atonement.
The Song
Read this hymn, and make it your song of testimony today!
There is a fountain filled with blood drawn from Emmanuel’s veins;
and sinners plunged beneath that flood lose all their guilty stains.
Lose all their guilty stains, lose all their guilty stains;
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, though vile as he, washed all my sins away.
Washed all my sins away, washed all my sins away;
and there have I, though vile as he, washed all my sins away.
Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood shall never lose its power
till all the ransomed church of God be saved, to sin no more.
Be saved, to sin no more, be saved, to sin no more;
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.
And shall be till I die, and shall be till I die;
redeeming love has been my theme, and shall be till I die.
Then in a nobler, sweeter song, I’ll sing Thy power to save,
when this poor lisping, stammering tongue lies silent in the grave.
Lies silent in the grave, lies silent in the grave;
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 formed by power divine,
to sound in God the Father’s ears no other name but Thine.
TheScottSpot 