From every stormy wind that blows,
From every swelling tide of woes,
There is a calm, a sure retreat;
’Tis found beneath the mercy seat.
There is a place where Jesus sheds
The oil of gladness on our heads;
A place than all beside more sweet;
It is the blood-stained mercy seat.
There is a spot where spirits blend,
Where friend holds fellowship with friend;
Though sundered far, by faith they meet
Around one common mercy seat.
Ah, whither could we flee for aid,
When tempted, desolate, dismayed,
How would the hosts of hell defeat,
Had suffering saints no mercy-seat?
There, there, on eagle wings we soar,
And time and sense seem all no more;
And heaven comes down, our souls to greet,
while glory crowns the mercy seat.
