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 sonnet,
sung by flaming tongues above;
praise his name - I'm fixed upon it -
name of God's 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,
bought me with 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 for thy courts above.
|First Line:||Come, thou Fount of every blessing|
|Title:||Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing|
|Author:||Robert Robinson, 1735-1790|
|Topic:||Praise to Christ|
|Source:||John Wyeth's Repository of Sacred Music, 1813|