There is a Fountain

I have let everyday life and petty tasks consume me lately and have completely forgotten the significance of this week. The sacrifice that was made this weekend about 2000 years ago is beyond a mystery. It was awful. It was painful. It was unfathomable. It was beautiful. For Someone to take all the sin of the world on Himself, be separated from God and killed so that I could spend eternity with Him. How can you comprehend that? How can you try to grasp that kind of love?

What do I do with that?

"Till all the ransomed church of God be saved to sin no more."

My church does a First Tuesday Night Prayer once a month when we come together and go after the heart of God in song, prayer and communion. I absolutely love this. A body of believers coming together to surrender everything, to lay it all down before God, and seek His rescue. It's amazing. We sang this hymn tonight that we have sung before, but it's fairly new to me. I think it's become one of my most favorite hymns though.

It was written by William Cowper who happened to be a good friend of John Newton, author of Amazing Grace. Cowper struggled severely from depression and attempted suicide several times. He wrote this song after coming back from a major depression attack when he realized that there was no sin too big that God couldn't wipe clean.

This song reflects what God's spirit was teaching Cowper. Soak up the words. It's beautiful.

There is a Fountain

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.