Prone to Wander

Prone to Wander
by Gideon Burton
after Robert Robinson's "Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing."

I wander, prone to wander, prone to leave
the God I love. Be fetter, ballast, stay,
that fountain source of living water. Cleave
and seal and bind me as I slip and stray.
I stake my all upon who will not fall
nor prove inconstant as so constantly
I do. And yet I tune my spirit small
to resonate with thine persistently.
With streams of mercy bathe my upturned face;
with holy rhythms regulate my prayer.
As thou before, again restore my place;
unstranger me within thy bosom fair.
     As tongues of fire spark the heavens above
     I feel my weakness and I know thy love.

Photo: flickr - modenadude

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Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing
by Robert Robinson

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.

Here I raise mine 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.

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.

He Bears No More

He Bears No More
by Gideon Burton
a remix of Parley P. Pratt's "Jesus, Once of Humble Birth

Once humbly born, a lowly lamb and meek;
once groaning in his bloody tears and loss;
once left alone, rejected, bowed and weak;
once weighted down while lifted on the cross --
In glory now returns to waiting earth,
His chariot a blaze of fiery cloud;
in glory comes to give us second birth,
the Savior meek and mild with thunder loud.
Exalted to a throne, Almighty King,
debased no more, ascendent and supreme.
With hosts of angels shouting as they sing,
He breaks the night with morning's brightest beams.
     I shouldered all, all suffering I bore;
     my sacrifice complete, I bear no more.

Photo: flickr - brainedge

Jesus, the Very Thought of Thee

Jesus, the Very Thought of Thee
by Gideon Burton
after the hymn text attributed to Bernard of Clairvaux

The very thought of thee -- oh, Jesus, sweet
to me thy sacred name within my breast.
Yet how much more with softest peace impressed,
thy face to see, my Lord to praise and greet.
No voice, no heart, no memory competes
with what thy name invokes, what is expressed
when Heaven's Father is through thee addressed.
This is a food to me as wholesome as it's sweet.
My broken-hearted hope, our joy and prize
awaiting in the garden, wet and meek,
eternity and healing in thy wings;
To those who fall, how kind thou art, how wise,
the living water that I thirsty seek.
The very thought of thee, so sweet it stings.


Feel free to copy, imitate, remix, or redistribute this poem as long as you give proper acknowledgment of authorship. Photo: flickr - Iko