Sweet precious blood of Calvary
That washes white as snow,
How many times I plunge beneath
Its healing, cleansing flow.
Without regard to what I’ve done
Or how my sins appear,
It washes all their guilt away
And makes my record clear.
It never says, ‘Enough of you
You’ve washed for this before.’
Nor does it scorn me when I come
Or bar me from the door.
It always flows a mighty stream
Of God’s abundant grace
Down from the cross and to His throne
Where I may see His face.
Christina Joy Hommes