"Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing"

As we approach Thanksgiving and ponder our blessings, I wanted to print the words to a favorite hymn of mine. The story behind the man who wrote the words makes this wonderful hymn even more amazing.

According to a book about hymns, Amazing Grace, by Kenneth Osbeck, Robert Robinson (1735-1790) lived in London. In his early teen years he hung around with a "notorious gang of hoodlums," and got into a lot of trouble. When Robinson was 17 years old, the famous evangelist George Whitefield was preaching in London. Robinson attended the meeting so he could "[scoff] at those poor, deluded Methodists." Instead, Robinson ended up becoming a Christian and soon felt called to preach the gospel. He became the pastor of a large Baptist church in Cambridge, England, and was known for being a good minister and scholar, despite his young age. Robinson wrote theological books and several hymns. "Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing" was written when he was only 23 years old.

"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.

This my glad commemoration That 'til now I've safely 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.