1 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.

2 There is a place where Mercy sheds
The oil of gladness on our heads;
A place than all beside more sweet–
It is the blood-stained mercy-seat.

3 There is a spot where souls unite,
And saint meets saint in heav'nly light;
Tho' sundered far, by faith they meet
Before the common mercy-seat.

4 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?

5 Thither by faith we upward soar,
And time and sense seem all no more,
For freely God our souls can greet
Where glory crowns the mercy-seat.