1 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 measure
sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount! I'm fixed upon it,
mount of thy redeeming love.
2 Here I raise to thee an altar;
hither by thy 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.
3 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 from thy courts above.
|First Line:||Come, thou fount of every blessing|
|Title:||Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing|
|Author:||Robert Robinson (1758, alt.)|
|Topic:||God Beyond All Name and Form: Praise to God; God; God: Grace(4 more...)|
|Source:||Wyeth's Repository of Sacred Music, Part Second, 1813|