Classic Poem

Here is a fountain of Christ's blood
Wide open set to drown our sins,
Where Christ stands with open arms
With mercy to invite you in.

For you will see his bleeding wounds
And hear him breathe forth dying groans.
He shed His rich redeeming blood
Only to do poor sinners good.

A crown of thorns, spit on with scorn,
His soul was pained and His flesh was torn,
With ragged nails through hands and feet
They nailed our rich Redeemer sweet.

When all His precious blood was spent,
The thunder roared, the rocks were rent.
The richness of His precious blood
Did open graves and raise the dead.

The sun and moon in mourning went,
The sea did roar and the temples rent.
The earth did quake and the clouds did tumble
Which made hell shake and devils tremble.