The blood, the blood is all my plea,
Nor should a sinner wonder
For guilty stain and stinging pain
Hath torn my heart asunder!
But now I’m kneeling at the cross,
Washing in the crimson tide,
And cleansed, I tarry at the fountain,
Opened at my Savior’s side.
I rest, I rest supremely blest,
Without a care to canker;
No gloomy night, my path is light,
My hope holds like an anchor.
My cup, my cup it runneth o’er,
With joy celestial brimming;
On wings of love I soar above,
His hallelujahs hymning.
The blood, the blood is all my song,
I have no bliss without it;
From every stain it makes me clean,
My life and lip shall shout it.