Thou Fount Of Every Blessing
Turning to the young Robert Robinson, the bleary-eyed gypsy
fortune-teller pointed a quivering finger and said, “And you, young
man, you will live to see your children and your grandchildren.”
Robert Robinson suddenly paled and said, “You’re right.
She’s too drunk to know what she’s saying.
Leave her alone. Let’s
But her words haunted him the rest of the day.
“If I’m going to live to see my children and
grandchildren,” he thought, “I’ll have to change my way of
That very night, half in fun and half seriously, he took his gang
to an open air revival service nearby where the famous evangelist,
George Whitfield, was preaching. “We’ll go down and laugh at the poor deluded
Methodist,” he explained
Two years and seven months after hearing that sermon,
twenty-year-old Robert Robinson made his peace with God, and “found
full and free forgiveness through the precious blood of Jesus Christ.”
Joining the Methodists, and feeling the call to preach, the
self-taught Robinson was appointed by John Wesley to the Calvinist
Methodist Chapel, Norfolk, England.
And there, for the celebration of Pentecost (Whitsunday), in
1858, three years after his marvelous conversion, he penned his
spiritual autobiography in the words of this hymn.
—Ernest K. Emurian
Come, Thou Fount
Come, Thou Fount of ev’ry blessing,
my heart to sing Thy grace;
of mercy, never ceasing,
for songs of loudest praise.
me some melodious sonnet,
by flaming tongues above;
the mount—I’m fixed upon it—
of Thy redeeming love.
Here I raise my Ebenezer;
by Thy help I’m come;
I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
to arrive at home.
sought me when a stranger,
from the fold of God;
to rescue me from danger,
His precious blood.
O to grace how great a debtor
I’m constrained to be!
that grace now, like a fetter,
my wand’ring heart to Thee:
to wander, Lord, I feel it,
to leave the God I love;
my heart, O take and seal it;
it for Thy courts above.
Paul, Steve Green’s MIDI Hymnal, (Oak Harbor, WA: Logos
Research Systems, Inc.) 1998.