From ev’ry stormy wind that blows,
From ev’ry 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 of all on earth most sweet,
It is the blood bought mercy seat.

There is a scene where spirits blend,
Where friend holds fellowship with friend;
Tho sundered far by faith they meet,
Around one 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.

There, there on eagle’s wings we soar,
And sin and sense seem all no more;
And heav’n comes down our souls to greet,
And glory crowns the mercy seat.

O let my hand forget her skill,
My tongue be silent cold and still,
This bounding heart forget to beat,
If I forget the mercy seat.

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