There Is A Fountain

There Is A Fountain

Irish, March. American, Air. Old-Time hymn; Words: Will­iam Cow­per, in Con­yer’s Col­lect­ion of Psalms and Hymns, 1772. Music: Cleans­ing Fount­ain, 19th Cen­tu­ry Amer­i­can camp meet­ing tune. Meade attributes the tune to Lowell Mason.

ARTIST: Bluegrass Cardinals

CATEGORY: Fiddle and Instrumental Tunes

EARLIEST DATE: 1972

RECORDING INFO: There Is a Fountain [Filled With Blood] [Me III-D 35] - Cowper, William; Rt - Fountain Filled With Blood

de Ville, Paul (ed.) / Concertina and How To Play It, Carl Fischer, sof (1905), #262
Benziger, Barbara; & Eleanor Dickinson (eds.) / That Old-Time Religion, Harper & Row, Sof (1975), p 67
Bluegrass Cardinals. Bluegrass Cardinals, Briar Br-4205, LP (1976), trk# 9
Giddens Sisters. Folk Music in America, Vol.15, Religious Music, Solo & Perform.., Library of Congress LBC-15, LP (1978), trk# B.05 [1927/06/01]
Phipps Family. Greatest Old Time Gospel Hymns. Featuring the Phipps Family, Pine Mountain PMR 125, LP (196?), trk# B.04
Rucker, Sparky and Ronda. Blue and Gray in Black and White, Flying Fish FF70 611, CD (1992), trk# 9
Thompson, Linda Lowe. Dulcimer Players News, DPN, Ser, 19/2, p37(1993)
Thompson, Linda Lowe. Dulcimer Players News, DPN, Ser, 23/3, p39(1997)
Tola Custy & Cyril O'Donoghue, "Setting Free", CICD 098, 1994

OTHER NAMES: Fountain Filled With Blood

SOURCES: Kuntz; Levy; Mudcat

NOTES: This old hymn tune has become part of the bluegrass and oldtime tradition. It is listed as a fiddle tune in Fiddler's Companion.  According to Kuntz, Lani Herrmann the tune is actually an American hymn tune with words beginning:
**
There is a fountain filled with blood
That flows from Emmanuel's veins,
And those that wash beneath the flood
Lose all their guilty stains.
Lose all their guilty stains, O Lord,
Lose all their guilty stains,]
And those that wash....

The hymn was first recorded in 1927 by Copperhill Male Quartet (Columbia) also Old Southewr Sacred Singers and later that year Teh Gidden Sisters. it was recorded by the oldtime performers Frank Welling and John McGee in 1928. Here's info from the web:

Alternative Tunes: Belmont, Sac­red Mel­o­dies, by Wil­liam Gard­i­ner, 1812 (us­es on­ly first two lines of each verse); Cowper, Low­ell Ma­son (1792-1872); Horsley, Will­iam Hors­ley, 1844; Walsall, at­trib­ut­ed to Hen­ry Pur­cell in An­chor’s A Choice Col­lect­ion, cir­ca 1721;  Wiltshire, George T. Smart, 1795. 
 

[This is one of the first hymns Cow­per wrote af­ter his first at­tack of tem­po­ra­ry mad­ness. Cow­per had been prom­ised a post as Clerk of the Jour­nal to the House of Lords, but was dis­mayed up­on learn­ing he would have to un­der­go a pub­lic ex­am­in­a­tion in the House be­fore be­gin­ning his du­ties. The fol­low­ing ar­ti­cle from the North Amer­i­can Re­view, Jan­u­a­ry, 1834, de­scribes his di­lem­ma, and how God pre­vent­ed him from de­stroy­ing him­self:

As the time drew nigh, his agony became more and more in­tense; he hoped and be­lieved that mad­ness would come to relieve him; he attempted also to make up his mind to commit su­i­cide, though his conscience bore stern testimony against it; he could not by any argument per­suade himself that it was right, but this des­per­a­tion pre­vailed, and he pro­cured from an apothecary the means of self-destruction. On the day before his public appearance was to be made, he happened to notice a letter in the newspaper, which to his dis­or­dered mind seemed like a ma­lig­nant li­bel on himself. He im­med­i­ate­ly threw down the pa­per and rushed into the fields, de­ter­mined to die in a ditch, but the thought struck him that he might es­cape from the count­ry. With the same vi­o­lence he pro­ceed­ed to make hasty prep­ar­a­tions for his flight; but while he was en­gaged in pack­ing his port­man­teau his mind changed, and he threw him­self into a coach, or­der­ing the man to drive to the Tower wharf, in­tend­ing to throw him­self in­to the ri­ver, and not re­flect­ing that it would be im­poss­i­ble to ac­comp­lish his pur­pose in that pub­lic spot. On ap­proach­ing the wa­ter, he found a por­ter seated upon some goods: he then re­turned to the coach and was con­veyed to his lodg­ings at the Temple. On the way he at­tempt­ed to drink the laud­a­num, but as oft­en as he raised it, a con­vuls­ive agi­ta­tion of his frame pre­vent­ed it from reach­ing his lips; and thus, re­gret­ting the loss of the op­por­tun­i­ty, but un­a­ble to avail him­self of it, he ar­rived, half dead with an­guish, at his apart­ment. He then shut the doors and threw him­self upon the bed with the laud­a­num near him, try­ing to lash himself up to the deed; but a voice within seemed con­stant­ly to for­bid it, and as of­ten as he ex­tend­ed his hand to the poi­son, his fing­ers were con­tract­ed and held back by spasms.

At this time one of the in­mates of the place came in, but he con­cealed his ag­i­ta­tion, and as soon as he was left alone, a change came over him, and so de­test­a­ble did the deed ap­pear, that he threw away the laud­a­num and dashed the vial to pieces. The rest of the day was spent in heavy insensibility, and at night he slept as usual; but on waking at three in the morning, he took his penknife and lay with his weight upon it, the point toward his heart. It was brok­en and would not pen­e­trate. At day break he arose, and pas­sing a strong gar­ter around his neck, fast­ened it to the frame of his bed: this gave way with his weight, but on securing it to the door, he was more successful, and remained suspended till he had lost all consciousness of existence. After a time the garter broke and he fell to the floor, so that his life was saved.; but the conflict had been greater than his reason could endure. He felt for himself a contempt not to be expressed or imagined; whenever he went into the street, it seemed as if every eye flashed upon him with indignation and scorn; he felt as if he had offended God so deep­ly that his guilt could ne­ver be for­giv­en, and his whole heart was filled with tu­mult­u­ous pangs of despair. Mad­ness was not far off, or rather mad­ness was al­ready come. Af­ter re­cov­er­ing, Cow­per came to real­ize how God can erase the stain of any sin.]

There Is a Fountain
Southerners in the mid-19th century were religious people for the most part. Most regularly attended church and held a deep, personal faith. When war broke out and the ties of community and church were severed, the soldier sometimes forgot his upbringing and began to slip into the besetting sins of camp life -- drinking, gambling, and swearing, among others. However, there were chaplains in the army who labored among the men to point them toward Christ. By the Spring of 1863 a great revival swept the Army of Northern Virginia, reaching its peak during the Winter of 1863-64. Literally thousands of men were converted, and the army camps took on a much different character than the one they had possessed early in the war. Hymn singing, of course, became popular in the army at that time and one of the most popular songs was There Is a Fountain. This hymn, written by the English poet William Cowper in the early 1770s, was already old and well established by the time of the Civil War.
Two stories about this hymn and its impact on Civil War soldiers follow. The first is taken from a 1917 issue of Confederate Veteran magazine.

J. M. Beadles, of Madison Run, Va., writes of a most unique incident of his war experience:

In November, 1863, General Lee's army moved into winter quarters on the south side of the Rapidan River. The Union Army moved up to the north side. The pickets on each side of the river were within speaking distance of each other. My command camped on the north side of Clark's Mountain and was composed of the following regiments of infantry: 58th, 52nd, 32nd, and 13th Virginia, Gen. A. P. Hill's old regiment. This was the 4th Virginia Brigade, commanded by General Pegram, who was killed at Hatcher's Run.

While in camp our chaplain, Rev. Willie Ragland, preached very faithfully the gospel of Christ to our command, the 13th Virginia, that loved and honored him as a servant of God. One of the converts, Goodwin, of Company A, of Orange Courthouse, living in the lower part of the county, wished to be baptized in the Rapidan River; but the enemy was just on the other side and our officers feared that we might bring on trouble. But finally they gave their consent. We marched very scatteringly, about fifty strong; and the enemy, seeing that we had no arms, did not fire on us, but seemed greatly puzzled and watched us closely. As soon as we reached the water's edge we began to sing that grand old hymn, 'There is a fountain filled with blood,' and at once the enemy began to leave their works and hasten to the riverside, and many voices in the Northern army joined in the song. Both armies were at peace as they witnessed the death of the old man into the resurrection of the new man through Jesus Christ our Lord."

The second narrative comes from Ira Sankey's Story of the Gospel Hymns, published in 1906:

A lieutenant in the Union army, having received his death-wound in a gallant charge at the head of regiment, was visited in the hospital by the chaplain, who inquired how he felt. He said he had always been cheerful, and was now ready to meet God in peace. 'Chaplain,' he added, 'I was passing through the streets of New York once on a Sunday night, and I heard singing. I went in and saw a company of poor people. They were singing 'There is a fountain filled with blood.' I was overpowered with the impression the hymn made upon me, and I gave my heart to God. Since then I have loved Jesus, and I love Him now.' That was his last speech.

THERE IS A FOUTAIN- lyrics William Cowper          

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.