Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing

Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it,
Mount of Thy redeeming love.

 

Sorrowing I shall be in spirit,
Till released from flesh and sin,
Yet from what I do inherit,
Here Thy praises I’ll begin;
Here I raise my Ebenezer;
Here by Thy great help I’ve come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home.

 

Jesus sought me when a stranger,
Wandering from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger,
Interposed His precious blood;
How His kindness yet pursues me
Mortal tongue can never tell,
Clothed in flesh, till death shall loose me
I cannot proclaim it well.

 

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

 

O that day when freed from sinning,
I shall see Thy lovely face;
Clothed then in blood washed linen
How I’ll sing Thy sovereign grace;
Come, my Lord, no longer tarry,
Take my ransomed soul away;
Send thine angels now to carry
Me to realms of endless day.

 

 

 

 

 

Robert Robinson had a rough beginning. His father died when he was young, and his mother, unable to control him, sent him to London to learn barbering. What he learned instead was drinking and gang-life. When he was 17, he and his friends reportedly visited a fortune-teller. Relaxed by alcohol, they laughed as she tried to tell their futures. But something about the encounter bothered Robert, and that evening he suggested to his buddies they attend the evangelistic meeting being held by George Whitefield. Whitefield was one of history’s greatest preachers, with a voice that was part foghorn and part violin. That night he preached from Matthew 3:7: ‘‘But when he saw many of the Pharisees and Sadducees coming to his baptism, he said to them, ‘‘Brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?’’ Bursting into tears, White-field exclaimed, ‘‘Oh, my hearers! The wrath to come! The wrath to come!’’ Robert immediately sobered up and sensed Whitefield was preaching directly to him. The preacher’s words haunted him for nearly three years, until December 10, 1755, when he gave his heart to Christ. Robert soon entered the ministry, and three years later at age 23, while serving Calvinist Methodist Chapel in Norfolk, England, he wrote a hymn for his sermon on Pentecost Sunday. It was a prayer that the Holy Spirit flood into our hearts with His streams of mercy, enabling us to sing God’s praises and remain faithful to Him. ‘‘Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing,’’ has been a favorite of the church since that day. Robinson continued working for the Lord until 1790, when he was invited to Birmingham, England, to preach for Dr. Joseph Priestly, a noted Unitarian. There, on the morning of June 8, he was found dead at age 54, having passed away quietly during the night. Take a few moments to offer this hymn as a personal prayer, especially remembering those last insightful lines: Let thy goodness, like a fetter, bind my wandering heart to thee. Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, prone to leave the God I love; Here’s my heart, O take and seal it, seal it for thy courts above.

 

 Posted to the Servant of God by: Andrew Smith

 

Morgan, Robert J. (2003-02-05). Then Sings My Soul (p. 66). Thomas Nelson. Kindle Edition.[[posterous-content:pid___0]]