There is a Fountain

It's been a couple of weeks since I last posted something here. I've been busy re-organizing limitlim.blogspot.com., trashing out ideas for my dissertation, and surviving on my own since Edna's back home. However, I've also wanted to post more Mississippi John Hurt stuff, and haven't really mastered some of the songs that I want to post up here. I'm ok playing them but it's the singing that's tricky. Anyway, in the spirit of posting up gospel music, here's one that I worked on a while back.

The hymn, "There is a Fountain Filled with Blood", has been something I've sung for as long as I could remember. I can't be sure when I first learned it, but it probably goes back to ACS Monday morning chapels as well. We sang this a lot in Church as well, during communion. It's always been a rather staid and solemn song - we're talking about the the blood of Christ here, so I suppose the reverence is warranted. (Aside, if you ever encounter 'Zounds' in Shakespeare, remember that it's a blaspheming curse that is a rendering of 'God's wounds'). Anyway, I've done a version that I'm quite happy with where I play parts of the melody and attempt to sing a harmonic part. MJH would do something like this - he'd let the guitar complete the melodic line, but normally wouldn't sing any other part over that. The hymn would be confortable in "G" for me but I've singing it much lower, in "E", so that I can't reach the lower parts of the melody and can let my guitar fill in the blanks. So I'm taking something from him and trying to work it into this old-time fingerstyle version of the hymn.



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 may I, though vile as he,
wash all my sins away.
Wash all my sins away,
wash all my sins away;
and there may I, though vile as he,
wash 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.