How many of us remember singing as a child, wondering what an ebenezer was, and how to raise one? The word comes from 1 Samuel 7:12, where we read that “Samuel took a stone and set it up … and called its name Ebenezer; for he said, ‘Till now the Lord has helped us.’” This took place after the Lord had given Samuel and the army of Israel a mighty victory over the Philistines. It was to serve as a lasting reminder of God’s goodness to His people. Samuel had led the people in corporate confession of their sin at Mizpah, a confession that was joined with acts of repentance as they put away the Canaanite idols which they had allowed to be in the land.
In Hebrew, Ebenezer means “stone of help” (eben = stone; ezer = help). Samuel wanted the people to remember, not just for a few days, but for years, for decades, for generations, how God had come to the rescue of His people when they humbled themselves before Him. They were vulnerable, with their enemies approaching, and they did not deserve God’s rescue, having been chronically unfaithful. And yet in His gracious fidelity to His covenant people, God intervened with thunder to throw Israel’s enemies into confusion and give His people a resounding victory over the invading force.
Of course, this would not be the end of Israel’s story. Many more “dangers, toils, and snares” were to come. Samuel’s raising of the “stone of help” was in no way a declaration that the final victory had been won, but that “up to that point” God had helped them. “Till now the Lord has helped us.” And because God’s people weren’t yet out of the woods, this Ebenezer had a part to play in reminding the nation to keep the faith in the days ahead. God’s people still need that principle today. We’re not yet at the end of our story. Many more “dangers, toils, and snares” lie before us. We need Ebenezers to point us back to the God who has helped us till now, and to whom we need to continually turn for help to deliver us from the world, the flesh, and the devil.
This experience in Israel’s history was the basis for the reference to raising an Ebenezer in the hymn “Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing.” It was written by Baptist minister Robert Robinson (1735–1790) at the surprisingly young age of just 22, not long after his conversion, which was influenced in part by the preaching of evangelist George Whitefield. He was born in Suffolk of Christian parents who were very poor. His mother longed to see her son become a man of God, but when his dissolute father died, having deserted the family, when Robert was only 8 years old, though he had great intellect and promise, his education had to be curtailed. His mother sent him to London at the age of 14 to apprentice as a barber. He fell in with the wrong crowd with gangs in the streets of London, with no interest at all in spiritual things. They influenced him to embrace a life of sin and debauchery. So bad were his actions that his family essentially refused to be responsible for his behavior.
One day his gang of hoodlums harassed a drunken gypsy. Pouring liquor into her, they demanded she tell their fortunes for free. Pointing her finger at Robert she told him he would live to see his children and grandchildren. This struck a tender spot in his heart. “If I’m going to live to see my children and grandchildren,” he thought, “I’ll have to change my way of living. I can’t keep on like I’m going now.” A few nights later, half serious and half in fun, he decided to go to a tent meeting to hear the Methodist preacher George Whitefield. To cover his “weak” urge, he suggested that the boys in his gang go with him and heckle the gathering. “Let’s go laugh at the deluded Methodists” was his invitation to his gang.
Whitefield preached on the text: “O generation of vipers, who hath warned you to flee from the wrath to come?” Matthew 3:7. Robert left in dread, under a deep sense that George Whitefield was preaching to him alone. With tears streaming down his face, Whitefield preached, “O my hearers! The wrath to come! The wrath to come!” Robert Robinson was touched for eternity by that message. He said, “those words sunk into my heart like lead in the water. I wept … and for weeks, I could think of little else.” Three weeks later, on December 10th, 1755, in his own words, he “found full and free forgiveness through the precious blood of Jesus Christ.” His salvation produced in him a deep desire to learn and know the things of God. He traveled all over England listening to some of the best gospel preachers of his day.
He soon preached in a number of different churches, and it was evident he had a true gift. He wrote a letter to George Whitefield and told him that he envied the happiness that he saw on the faces of those people in that tent. Two years later, he wrote this hymn which expressed his joy in his new faith. He soon began preaching for Methodist and Baptist churches in the area around Norwich and Cambridge. In May, 1758, when he was only 22 years old, Robinson penned “Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing” for his sermon on Pentecost Sunday. In the following year of 1759, the lyrics of this powerful hymn were included in a small hymnal entitled “A Collection of Hymns Used by the Church of Christ in Angel Alley Bishopsgate.”
As for his preaching, about the time he was completing his apprenticeship, he began to have thoughts about entering the ministry, and he used to practice preaching sermons to himself for up to an hour at a time. He stayed in London, working in his trade for a couple of more years, and then in 1758 he returned home to his uncle’s farm in Suffolk, near where he had grown up. He was then 22 years of age. He began in earnest to copy Whitefield and the other Methodists, preaching without notes and gathering a society in the village. He was soon invited to preach at James Wheatley’s Tabernacle up the road in Norwich, where Robinson’s famous hymn was first published.
Though his time in the Norwich area was short, it was significant. It was here that he met and married Ellen Payne, with whom he would have twelve children. Here too his convictions led him to dissent from the Established Church, with whom the Methodists were still closely connected, and to set up an Independent Calvinistic church in town. Then he went on to receive adult baptism. He would be a Baptist ever after. It was the famous Baptist writer Anne Dutton (1692-1765) who informed the deacons in the Stoneyard congregation of Particular Baptists at Cambridge that “there was a youth at Norwich who had been preaching among Methodists but had lately been baptized and wanted to settle in a Baptist congregation.” He began preaching for the Cambridge Baptists in a kind of probationary role. He felt unworthy, given his irreligious upbringing, his lack of education, and his youth. But after two years, he was ordained as their permanent pastor.
His ministry began with 34 people huddled in a “damp, dark, cold, ruinous, contemptible hovel” in a town that despised Dissenters. Still, he remained faithful to his calling, and in time a new church meeting house was erected, and within fifteen years there were two hundred families in the church, with morning congregations of six hundred and evening gatherings of eight hundred. He reached a thousand more through his itinerant preaching in surrounding villages during the week. At a time when the percentage of Dissenters was falling in most of the counties around Cambridge, Robinson’s influence increased their numbers significantly in Cambridgeshire.
Robinson was unquestionably a beloved and effective pastor for three decades in Cambridge. This was his principal ministry. Little is known about his continued use of hymns, but there is a note in the church book that will seem familiar to anyone today who has met with conflict over styles of music in church: “Heady people . . . found fault with certain tunes.” These were the so-called “sprightly tunes” introduced in the Sunday evening lectures, designed to reach a wider “town and gown” audience. Evidently some church members did not like Robinson’s “seeker friendly” methods.
In the mid-1770s, Robinson was increasingly drawn into public activism to defend religious and civil liberties. He was keenly aware that the laws of the land still imposed disabilities on Dissenters. Robinson was driven to study church history to defend the cause of Nonconformists. For him, the Reformation was principally about freedom of conscience, rather than doctrinal statements. “The right of private judgment,” he wrote, “is the very foundation of the Reformation.” He came to dislike the binding of anyone’s conscience by a statement of faith.
In the political sphere, he was an active voice for parliamentary reform, and was even mentioned by name in the House of Commons by Edmund Burke (1729-1797). He was also an early opponent of slavery and the slave trade, preaching and petitioning against it. He stated clearly that slavery was incompatible with Christianity. On the same principal of liberty, he welcomed the American and French Revolutions. In fact, he was visited by General Reed, Washington’s second-in-command, who offered him passage to America and land if he would drop everything and come.
Robinson was a man open to other viewpoints and tolerant, perhaps to a fault. He was friendly with political and theological radicals, including Unitarians and others who denied Christ’s divinity (Socinians). There was a small Socinian group in his congregation in Cambridge, and he refused to take sides against them when division opened up over the question. Like many others before and since, Robinson wanted to appeal only to the Bible and not to any statements of faith or creeds. But there is always a danger that this way of thinking can lead to an unhealthy elevation of private judgment and unwillingness to see the teaching of the Holy Spirit in the minds and hearts (and writings) of mature Christian authors who have gone before us, and on whose shoulders we often stand. Those who think that they can recover the true Bible message on their own, without any dependence on doctrines derived from Scripture and received by the wider church, may indeed find themselves “prone to wander.”
How far Robinson did, in fact, wander theologically by the end of his life is a question still debated. If he hadn’t gone to Birmingham and preached in Priestley’s church just days before his death, he might have been remembered differently. A year before he died, he reaffirmed what he had written earlier, that the Socinians were mistaken brethren, and in one of his last letters he affirmed he was neither a Socinian nor an Arian. Six years after Robinson died, the Anglican evangelical John Newton wrote to Robinson’s biographer, saying that he hoped his own spiritual history would terminate where Robinson’s began. He worried that Robinson in his later years was more inclined to help people doubt than believe. And he worried Robinson had been traveling the same road as Joseph Priestley from skepticism to Unitarianism. It is hard to know for certain. But Newton was surely right about the early years of Robinson’s ministry. There is abundant evidence from the 1750s and 60s to show that Robinson was animated by an evangelical faith and piety that was later compared to Jonathan Edwards.
In his hymn, Robinson wrote, “Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, prone to leave the God I love; Here’s my heart, Oh take and seal it, seal it for Thy courts above.” There are reports (their authenticity is uncertain) that years later Robert did wander away from God. In a spiritually backslidden condition, Robert has been described as riding in a stagecoach one day, traveling through the English countryside. His only companion was a young woman unknown to him. In the providence of God, and not realizing who it was she spoke with, the woman quoted “Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing,” saying what an encouragement it had been to her. Try as he might, Robinson could not get her to change the subject. She asked him what he thought of the hymn she was humming. He responded, “Madam, I am the poor unhappy man who wrote that hymn many years ago, and I would give a thousand worlds, if I had them, to enjoy the feelings I had then.” Gently, she replied, “Sir, the ‘streams of mercy’ are still flowing.” He was deeply touched by that.
These reports suggest that as a result of that encounter, he repented. His fellowship with the Lord was restored through the ministry of his own hymn, and a Christian’s willing witness. Some 30 years later, the very words he had penned had been returned to him, by the grace and providence of God, to break his heart. If the reports are true, then this man who drifted was returned to favor with the Lord, and by the Lord. Robinson is said to have lived the rest of his days to the honor and glory of his Savior. He died peacefully, though with failing mind and health, at the age of 55, on the 9th of June, 1790.
The song was originally penned in these five stanzas, but the third and fifth below were omitted in the 1760 “Psalms and Hymns” by Martin Madan (1726-1790), and this practice has been almost universally adopted since. Madan was the first cousin of William Cowper (1731-1800), who is remembered and appreciated for his hymns, including “There Is a Fountain Filled with Blood,” “God Moves in a Mysterious Way,” and “O for a Closer Walk with God,” and others that he wrote in association with John Newton. Madan was a Calvinistic Methodist supported by the Countess of Huntingdon. His “Psalms and Hymns” collection went through 11 editions.
Here are the five stanzas of Robinson’s enduring hymn. The words make for a most appropriate and eloquent musical prayer for the beginning of a worship service, as believers gather to seek the Lord’s blessing in His presence and fulfilment of His promises to sustain and guard and use us for His glory. We recognize, in words from James 1:17 that “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.” And so as we gather to sing His praise, we ask in the opening line, “Come, Thou Fount of every blessing.”
Stanza 1 praises the Lord who is the source of everything good in our lives. He is the fountain of our salvation (Zechariah 13:1) and the giver of every good gift (Ephesians 1:3). All these blessings call for loudest praise (Hebrews 13:15). And what powerful imagery Robinson incorporated, to write of “flaming tongues above” singing loud songs and melodious sonnets, perhaps in part remembering the tongues of fire at Pentecost, or perhaps the fiery cloud above Mount Sinai.
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.
Stanza 2 praises the Lord who is our helper in every situation. Here is the classic reference to that stone of help, Ebenezer, to remind God’s children of the times He has proven His love in helping them when in danger. Sadly, the editors of one Methodist hymnal, rather than perhaps offering an explanatory footnote, changed this allusion to read,
Hitherto Thy love has blest me; Thou hast brought me to this place.
And I know Thy hand will bring me Safely home by Thy good grace.
How sad to give in to what one writer has seen here as “biblical illiteracy.” The greatest help the Lord has given us is seen at the Ebenezer of the cross, the symbol to remind of His greatest help, deliverance from our sin as “He interposed his precious blood” (Ephesians 1:7).
Here I raise my Ebenezer, Hither by Thy help I’m 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.
Stanza 3 praises the Lord who shows us kindness even in our sorrows. The books of Ecclesiastes and Job, as well as the Psalms, not only prove that in our lives we will experience troubles and sorrows, but also give us the words to pray to express our eternity security in the Lord’s power, love, and promises. Even though our mortal tongues cannot proclaim it well, we can sing praises to God even in our trials (Psalm 27:6).
Sorrowing I shall be in spirit, Till released from flesh and sin,
Yet from what I do inherit, Here Thy praises I’ll begin;
How His kindness yet pursues me Mortal tongue can never tell,
Clothed in flesh, till death shall loose me I cannot proclaim it well.
Stanza 4 praises the Lord who saves us only because of His grace. Paul wrote about this debt to grace in Romans 8:12, as well as in his marvelous words about salvation by grace in Ephesians 2:8-10. This is the stanza in which Robinson wrote of what some some recalled of his own “wandering heart.” Whether the accounts are true or not of him, we all know that we are each “prone to wander,” “prone to leave the God I love.” And so each day we need to pray again that He would keep us from doing so.
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.
Stanza 5 praises the Lord who is the source of our hope of eternal life. This stanza is sometimes attributed to Bradford J. Brown, but most accept it now as legitimately from Robinson. It is a shame that the stanza is unknown to most today. It provides the apocalyptic climax of the author’s invocationary request. We look forward to that day when, in the language of Revelation 7:13-14, the redeemed in heaven will have their robes washed in the blood of the Lamb. And so we long for that coming of the Lord when He will “take my ransomed soul away,” carried by angels “to realms of endless day (Luke 16:22).
O that day when freed from sinning, I shall see Thy lovely face;
Clothèd 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.
The tune NETTLETON is a traditional American melody often attributed to Asahel Nettleton (1783-1844). He was a well-known evangelist of early nineteenth century America who included Robinson’s hymn in his popular 1825 “Village Melodies for Social Worship.” However, the book contained no music and there is no evidence that Nettleton was known as a composer or produced any tunes in his life. The first appearance of the tune was in the 1813 “Repository of Sacred Music: Part Second,”compiled by Massachusetts printer John Wyeth (1770-1858). In the index, no composer’s name is given, but it is identified as a new tune, leading to speculation that Wyeth may have composed it, although it seems that he was not known as a tune composer either but published his tunebook strictly as a business venture “for the use of Christian churches.” Thus, it is not known precisely where the tune came from nor who was responsible for it. Some sources have credited it to the French philosopher and amateur musician Jean Jacques Rousseau (1712-1778). Others suggest that a friend of Nettleton’s may have composed it and named it in his honor.
Here is an anthem arrangement of the hymn, though with some revisions in the textual structure.