I couldn’t decide if I should do a thanksgiving-oriented hymn today in honour of American Thanksgiving, or if I should slip in an early Christmas carol… but in the end, I’ve opted for more standard fare for this week’s selection in my series Then Sings My Soul: The Hymns of My Youth. I’ve selected William Cowper‘s (pronounced “Cooper”) hymn, There Is A Fountain Filled with Blood. It has the name “Emmanuel”, so if you want to imagine it’s for Christmas, go ahead!

Some years back, John Piper preached a message on the life of Cowper at Bethlehem’s 1992 Pastors’ Conference called Insanity and Spiritual Songs in the Soul of a Saint. Cowper battled a powerful depression, with some amazing hymns and poems emerging from the darkness, and Piper’s brief biography is a good read or listen for some insights into the man who wrote this week’s hymn selection in the late 1700’s. Cowper, by the way, is also the man who wrote the familiar lines,

GOD moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

My childhood recollections of this are mixed. The imagery of a fountain of blood might be a little unsettling, but I think being surrounded by these kinds of metaphors numbs the shock they might otherwise present. Looking past, there are beautiful promises to find, of sinners losing every guilty stain. Now there’s a promise to latch onto.

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.

Video performances (some RSS subscribers will need to click through to view) with two very different renditions… first from Hillbilly Hymnal, and second set to some harsh imagery.

So… the finger-pickin’ version is some fine playing, but doesn’t remind me of the hymn that I know. The second one is a very nice version of the song set to images that frankly, it doesn’t need.