FROM every stormy wind that blows, From every swelling tide of woes, There is a...

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, And friend holds fellowship with friend; Though sundered far, by faith they meet Around one common mercy-seat.

There, there on eagle-wing we soar, And time and sense seem all no more; And heaven comes down our souls to greet, And glory crowns the mercy-seat.