Tuesday is for Hymns

One of my favorite hymns is There Is a Fountain Filled With Blood by William Cowper (1731-1800). Cowper and Amazing Grace author John Newton collaborated in writing hymns of which the fruit can be found in the Olney Hymns. Newton ministered to Cowper who suffered from severe depression and tried on more than one occasion to take his own life. You can find some information on Cowper at cyberhymnal and much more at igracemusic. In fact Newton's suggestion of the Olney Hymn Project was to help Cowper in his depression.

There are several musical arrangements to this classic hymn, some of which can be found on the previous cyberhymnal link. There is a new arrangement of music for this hymn found here recorded by Red Mountain Church which I have grown fond of recently.

There Is a Fountain Filled With Blood

There is a fountain filled with blood drawn from Emmanuel’s veins;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood lose all their guilty stains.
Lose all their guilty stains, lose all their guilty stains;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood lose all their guilty stains.

The dying thief rejoiced to see that fountain in his day;
And there have I, though vile as he, washed all my sins away.
Washed all my sins away, washed all my sins away;
And there have I, though vile as he, washed all my sins away.

Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood shall never lose its power
Till all the ransomed church of God be saved, to sin no more.
Be saved, to sin no more, be saved, to sin no more;
Till all the ransomed church of God be saved, to sin no more.

E’er since, by faith, I saw the stream Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme, and shall be till I die.
And shall be till I die, and shall be till I die;
Redeeming love has been my theme, and shall be till I die.

Then in a nobler, sweeter song, I’ll sing Thy power to save,
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue lies silent in the grave.
Lies silent in the grave, lies silent in the grave;
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue lies silent in the grave.

Lord, I believe Thou hast prepared, unworthy though I be,
For me a blood bought free reward, a golden harp for me!
’Tis strung and tuned for endless years, and formed by power divine,
To sound in God the Father’s ears no other name but Thine.