From Every Stormy Wind
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-bought mercy seat.
There is a scene 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 suff'ring saints no mercy seat.
Ah there on eagle wings we soar,
And sin an sense molest no more;
And heav'n comes down our souls to greet,
While glory crowns the mercy seat.