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;
Clothèd 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.