My spirit was stirred as when an angel touches a pool in singing “Come,Thou Fount of Evening Blessing” with those gathered in revival meeting last night.

A London hoodlum, 17 years old and full of self, went to hear Evangelist George Whitefield preach in 1752. He later recorded that he went with the purpose “of scoffing at those poor, deluded” Christians. Yet, in the power of the Holy Spirit, drawn by the irresistible grace of a loving, heavenly Father the hood was converted instead.

Robert Robinson, who had led a life of debauchery and crime, came to eternal, saving faith in Christ. His life was never the same. Soon he was called to preach and eventually to pastor. He penned what would become his most famous work, Come, Thou Fount, at 22 in 1757.

As you read his five, original verses that follow, will you let the cleansing, powerful fountain of God wash you anew. Or wash you for the first time.

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.

There is power in the imagery of a fountain, pure and clean, springing from rock and giving life to it's surroundings as with Refugio dos Falcoes, Brazil above.

There is greater power in God as the Holy Spirit can change any live. Confess your sins, friends, as He is faithful and just to forgive all sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. What you’ve done. What’s been done to you.

All the wickedness. All the guilt. All the pain. Can be washed away. In the fount of every blessing.