Tiffany Hudson - The Wonderful Blood Lyrics
Lyrics
Verse 1
The precious fountain
From Calvary's mountain
Flowing down to you and I
It washes us clean
Oh what a mystery
That red blood makes me white
Pre-Chorus
Isn't it wild
Doesn't it make you wonder
How something so profound
Could be so simple
Chorus
The blood, the blood, the blood
Oh the wonderful blood
Your love, Your love, Your love
Oh the marvelous love
Let the redeemed sing a song
Praises belong to the Son
The blood, the blood, the blood
Oh the wonderful blood
Verse 2
My precious Jesus
Oh I'm so thankful
For the day You saved my life
As I remember
My heart grows tender
Tears begin to fill my eyes
Pre-Chorus
And isn't it wild
And doesn't it make you wonder
How something so profound
Could be so simple
And isn't it wild
And doesn't it make you wonder
How something so divine
Could be so simple
Chorus
The blood, the blood, the blood
Oh the wonderful blood
Your love, Your love, Your love
Oh the marvelous love
Let the redeemed sing a song
Praises belong to the Son, oh
The blood, the blood, the blood
Oh the wonderful blood
Spontaneous
Oh
Thank You for Your blood, Jesus
Thank You for Your body
Poured out for us
Oh we thank You for Your blood
And we thank You for Your body broken
Oh
Bridge
The work You did is finished
All of our sins forgiven
And now we get to live in
The wonder of the working blood
The cross was Your decision
But death was not the ending
You rose and now we're risen
Oh, the wonder of the working blood
The work You did is finished
All of our sins forgiven
And now we get to live in
The wonder of the working blood
The cross was Your decision
But death was not the ending
You rose and now we're risen
Oh, the wonder of the working blood
Tag
Oh, the wonder of the working blood
Oh, the wonder of the working blood
Oh, the wonder of the working blood (The blood, oh)
Chorus
The blood, the blood, the blood
Oh the wonderful blood
Your love, Your love, Your love
Oh the marvelous love (Your blood)
The blood, the blood, the blood
Oh the wonderful blood (Of Jesus)
Your love, Your love, Your love
Oh the marvelous love
Let the redeemed sing a song
Praises belong to the Son, oh-oh
For the blood, the blood, the blood
Oh the wonderful blood
Bridge
The work You did is finished
All of our sins forgiven
And now we get to live in
The wonder of the working blood
The cross was Your decision
But death was not the ending
You rose and now we're risen
The wonder of the working blood
Tag
The wonder of the working blood
The wonder of the working blood
The wonder of the working blood (Oh the wonder)
The wonder of the working blood (What a mystery You are)
The wonder of the working blood
The wonder of the working blood
The wonder of the working blood
Vamp
And oh, precious is the flow
That makes me white as snow
No other fount I know, nothing
Nothing but the blood of Jesus, singing
Oh, precious is the flow
That makes me white as snow
No other fount I know
Nothing but the blood of Jesus (Oh, the wonder of the working blood)
Nothing but the blood of Jesus (Oh, the wonder of the working blood, oh-oh)
Nothing but the blood of Jesus
Yea-yes
Chorus
The blood, the blood, the blood
Oh the wonderful blood
Your love, Your love, Your love
Oh the marvelous love
Let the redeemed sing a song
Praises belong to the Son
The blood, the blood, the blood
Oh the wonderful blood
Outro
Yes
Yes Jesus
Jesus
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Oh oh oh
Video
The Wonderful Blood | Tiffany Hudson
Meaning & Inspiration
My knuckles are swollen now, and the pages of my old hymnals are worn thin, soft as flannel from decades of turning. When I sit in the quiet of a Tuesday afternoon, looking back at the fires I’ve walked through—some lit by my own foolishness, some by the cruelty of the world—I find myself measuring songs not by how they sound, but by whether they hold up when the house is still and the shadows get long.
Tiffany Hudson’s "The Wonderful Blood" caught me in the middle of a restless evening. There’s a line in the bridge that hit me hard: "The cross was Your decision / But death was not the ending."
It is easy, when you are young and the horizon looks infinite, to treat the cross like a footnote, a painful prelude to a victory lap. But when you’ve buried friends and watched your own strength evaporate like morning mist, you start to realize that the decision—the intentional, agonizing choice to walk toward the nails—is the only thing that keeps the floor from falling out from under you. It isn't just theology. It’s the anchor. If He hadn't chosen that path, I would have no footing for the days when my own will failed me.
Then there is the repetition: "The blood, the blood, the blood."
At first, I thought, that’s a lot of repetition. My generation likes a bit more structure, maybe a clear argument. But as I listened, I remembered the way we used to sing the old hymns, back when we didn't have much else to say. Sometimes, when life has beaten you down until you are tired, you don't have the breath for long, complex sentences. You just have the name. You just have the fact of the sacrifice. Repeating it doesn't feel like "young man’s noise" when you’re leaning on a cane; it feels like holding onto a lifeline so tight your hands cramp. It’s what Hebrews meant when it talked about holding fast the confession of our hope without wavering.
It’s messy, isn't it? The idea that something so brutal, so violent, could be the thing that makes a person "white as snow." It never ceases to be a scandal. I think Hudson understands that the mystery isn't something to be solved, but something to be lived in.
I don't know if I fully grasp it even now, after forty years of trying. Some days, the weight of my own past feels heavier than the mercy I’m told is mine. I look at my hands—spotted, trembling—and I wonder if I’ve really been washed, or if I’m just pretending. And then I hear that simple refrain, the working blood. Not the "past" blood, not the "historical" blood, but the working blood. It implies a motion, something still scrubbing away at the stains I thought were permanent.
It’s an unfinished thought for me. I’m still waiting to see how it all settles when I finally step over that threshold. But for now, I suppose that’s enough. The blood is still working. That has to be enough.