From every stormy wind that blows,

From every swelling of 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-stained mercy seat.

There is a place where spirits blend,

Where friend holds fellowship with friend,

Though sundered far; by faith they meet

Around the common mercy seat.

Ah, whither could we flee for aid,

When tempted, desolate, dismayed,

Or how the hosts of hell defeat,

Had suffering saints no mercy seat?

Then, there on eagle’s wings we soar

And time and sense seem all no more,

And Heav’n comes down our souls to greet,

And glory crowns the mercy seat.

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