Come, Thou Fount of every blessing, Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing, Call for songs of loudest praise.
First things first, this is the hymn I purposed months ago to interpret. We sang it in church and it rang true with me. I jotted the title down right away, but left it sit for some time. If I’m being honest, I’ve got a little trepidation about this whole project. If anyone is unqualified for such a work, it is me. However, it is mine to do, so I’m moving forward.
This song was written in 1758 by Robert Robinson. Make no mistake. It’s an old song. But truth, absolute truth, is timeless. Absolutely timeless. He was a mere 22 years old when he penned this song, and it is said that he was greatly inspired to write it after hearing the preaching of famed evangelist George Whitefield.
There is no question that my spiritual condition is pretty evident in this reworking. I’ve been without my dad for two months now, and I’m still reeling from it all. You could say that God and I haven’t exactly been on speaking terms lately. I’m trying to take it all in, to accept that He’s got good things for me, but when your world comes crashing in around you, sometimes the perfect will of God becomes difficult to see.
But the truth in the song still rings with my spirit. There is hope. This life is not really life, but a mere shadow of what is to come. This is not perfect, but my eternity is sealed with Christ, and it is perfect. This is the fact, whether I am able to entirely accept it or not. But enough of that. Let’s get to what we’re here for: good, bad, or otherwise. For the most part, this selection follows the original almost line for line. I’m not committed to this style, but it worked for me. Remember, I’m new at this.
Let your blessings saturate my all.
Polish my heart to reflect your mercy;
Your grace flows unending,
Pointing us to see you as you are.
Speak your poetry into my life,
Brand it with fire upon my heart.
I’ll be planted and the pinnacle of your love,
Rooted and established in glory.
I am wrecked by heartbreak,
Broken until I am made whole in you.
Yet in my sin, I’ll sing,
Thankful for what I have, what I will;
Your help has brought me this far,
This ground alone I’d never have seen;
And only by Your great and divine aid,
Will I ever make it home.
Once, I was a gypsy pursued,
A bastard sheep on the run from the flock,
You chased me, you saved me,
By Your blood, you took my place;
Even still, Your love is on my heels
Words fail to express it,
I’m still defective somehow, yet perfected,
It’s too much for me to comprehend.
Willingly, I’ll be Your slave,
Indebted forever, unable to repay.
Your grace is a chain around my neck,
I’m bound to you, You’re bound to me.
The waywards are calling,
Part of me yet rejects what You’ve done;
Take me all in all, embrace me,
Lay claim to my heart forever.
Death is my release date,
And I’ll see You eye to eye;
My robes washed white in crimson blood,
I’ll proclaim your grace unending.
Let’s get on with it, Lord!
Bring me home! Set me free!
Let your angels take flight,
And take me to your eternity.
View the original in its entirety here.