butter light

an old hymn – beautiful still

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This morning in the AM worship service we sang the great old hymn “Come Thou Fount.”  There were only 3 verses in our hymn book.  I new something was missing.  Recently, Kristi and I went to a wedding where a duet sang the whole song after the vows were exchanged.  (it was a vocal duet accompanied by a banjo – a little unusual, but it delighted my heart because the words were enunciated so clearly).  As I listened to the wedding duet sing the words, I could feel this rich assurrance of God’s saving grace filling my heart – “How His kindness yet pursues me mortal tongue can never tell” and “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.”

 

Here is the whole text of the original song.  Hope it encourages you too.

 

 

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.

 

by Robert Robinson, 1758

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