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.

2 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.

3 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.

4 Ah! whither could we flee for aid,

When tempted, desolate, dismayed;

Or how the host of hell defeat,

Had suffering souls no Mercy Seat?

5 There! there on eagle wings we soar,

And sin and sense seem all no more,

And heaven comes down our souls to greet,

And glory crowns the Mercy Seat!

6 O let my hand forget her skill,

My tongue be silent cold and still,

This bounding heart forget to beat,

Ere I forget the Mercy Seat!