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-stain’d mercy-seat.

There is a spot where spirits blend,

And friend holds fellowship with friend;

Though sunder’d far, by faith they meet

Around one common mercy-seat.

Ah, whither could we flee for aid,

When tempted, desolate, dismay’d?

Or how the hosts of hell defeat,

Had suffering saints no 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.