The Sprinkled Blood Is Speaking


The sprinkled blood is speaking
Before the Father’s throne,
The Spirit’s pow’r is seeking
To make its virtues known;
The sprinkled blood is telling
Jehovah’s love to man,
While heav’nly harps are swelling,
Sweet notes to mercy’s plan.

The sprinkled blood is speaking
Forgiveness full and free,
Its wondrous pow’r is breaking
Each bond of guilt for me;
The sprinkled blood’s revealing
A Father’s smiling face,
The Saviour’s love is sealing
Each monument of grace.

The sprinkled blood as pleading
Its virtue as my own,
And there my soul is reading
Her title to Thy throne.
The sprinkled blood as owning
The weak one’s feeblest plea;
‘Mid sighs, and tears, and groaning,
It pleads, O Lord, with thee.

O wondrous pow’r, that seeketh
From sin to set me free!
O precious blood, that speaketh!
Should I not value thee?
The sprinkled blood is shedding
Its fragrance all around,
It gilds the path we’re treading,
It makes our joys abound.