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 besides more sweet;
It is the blood bought mercy seat.
There is a scene where spirits blend,
Where friend holds fellowship with friend;
Though sundered far, by faith they meet
Around one common mercy seat.
There, there, on eagles’ wings we soar,
And the earthly cares molest no more,
And heaven comes down, our souls to greet,
And glory crowns the mercy seat.
Ah, wither should we flee for aid,
When tempted, desolate, dismayed?
Or how the host of sin defeat,
Had suffering saints no mercy seat?