The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in his day
And there may I, though vile as he
Wash all my sins away

Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power
Till 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 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