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. 

Here I raise mine Ebenezer; hither by thy help I'm 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. 

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.


                                                                                                                          Robert Robinson (1735-1790) 
                                                                                                                          adapted by Margaret Clarkson
 

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Previously Featured:

O Sacred Head, Now Wounded

Attributed to Bernard of Clairvaux, 1153

O sacred Head, now wounded, with grief and shame weighed down, 
Now scornfully surrounded with thorns, thine only crown: 
How pale thou art with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn! 
How does that visage languish which once was bright as morn! 

What thou, my Lord, has suffered was all for sinners' gain; 
Mine, mine was the transgression, but thine the deadly pain. 
Lo, here I fall, my Savior! 'Tis I deserve thy place; 
Look on me with thy favor, vouchsafe to me thy grace. 

What language shall I borrow to thank thee, dearest friend, 
For this thy dying sorrow, thy pity without end? 
O make me thine forever; and should I fainting be, 
Lord, let me never, never outlive my love for thee.