"Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing"

The past few weeks, I have been humming this hymn as it pops into my mind. The author of the words, Robert Robinson (1735-1790), was an English pastor, first in the Methodist church, and then in the Baptist church.

Although hymnals print the name of John Wyeth (1770-1858) in the spot reserved for the composer of the music, he was actually an American printer and publisher who compiled songs others had written. It doesn't appear that he had musical or theological training, but he had a large collection of printed music. His tunebooks; Repository of Sacred Music (1810) and Repository of Sacred Music, Part Second (1813); may have been the result of a good business move rather than inspired by any religious convictions.

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.


(Fort Hunter Mansion in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, above. It was built in 1814 by Capt. Archibald McAlister, about the time that Wyeth was printing his songbooks in the same town. It was named for the 18th century fort constructed near the site.)