To a world of sinners revealed;
Blessed be the dear Son of God:
Only by His stripes we are healed.
Tho' I've wandered far from His fold,
Bringing to my heart pain and woe,
Wash me in the Blood of the Lamb,
And I shall be whiter than snow !
Whi - - ter than the snow, . . .
Whi - - ter than the snow, . . .
Wash me in the Blood of the Lamb... .
And I shall be whiter than snow ! . . . .
2 Thorny was the crown that He wore,
And the cross His body o'ercame;
Grievous were the sorrows He bore,
But He suffered not thus in vain.
May I to that Fountain be led,
Made to cleanse my sins here below!
Wash me in the Blood that He shed,
And I shall be whiter than snow!
3 Father, I have wandered from Thee,
Often has my heart gone astray;
Crimson do my sins seem to me—
Water cannot wash them away.
Jesus, to that Fountain of Thine,
Leaning on Thy promise I go;
Cleanse me by Thy washing divine,
And I shall be whiter than snow!