Come Thou Fount Of Every Blessing

The hymn opens by asking a "fount of every blessing" to tune the singer's heart toward grace, and the request is telling: the heart is an instrument out of tune, something that needs adjusting before it can sing. From there the imagery moves between flowing water and a fixed point — mercy that never stops streaming, and a "mount" of redeeming love the singer claims to be anchored to. The second verse plants a stone of remembrance, an Ebenezer raised because help has already arrived, and it names the rescue plainly: Christ sought the singer while still a stranger wandering from the fold and stepped in with his own blood. The third verse looks ahead to a day of release from sinning, blood-washed linen, and angels carrying the soul home. But the most honest moment comes last, when the singer admits to being "prone to wander" and asks goodness to act like a fetter, binding the heart in place. The repeated closing line — here's my heart, take and seal it — turns the whole song into an offering, not a victory lap. It's a hymn about grace that keeps working on a heart that knows its own drift.