Tune my heart

Here we are in Advent. Advent “in these challenging times”; although, tbf, I don’t think I’ve seen any of those commercials recently. Seems like the corporations have got just as tired of COVID-19 as the rest of us.

So at least there’s that.

But still—the season is here, whether we feel like celebrating it or not, and whether we can gather with friends and family or not. So let’s settle in for it, preparing the way of the Lord—some anticipatory joy, as well as all the cleaning out and reflecting.

I’m starting it off with “Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing”, which was written in 1758 by a 22-year-old English Baptist pastor named Robert Robertson. The Brits use a different melody, but here in the US, it’s set to the folk piece “Nettleton”.

Because this has indeed been such a weird year, instead of some lovely choral versions, I’m giving you this cover by Sufjan Stevens. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure I really like his delivery, with that breathy voice, but the photos are gorgeous and maybe as a function of Advent prep in this particular year, this is a time when we really ought to sit down and concentrate on hearing the words. Which are:

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 God's redeeming love.

Here I find my greatest treasure;
hither by thy help I've 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,
bought me with his precious blood.

Oh, 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.