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 Jesus sheds
The oil of gladness on our heads:
A place than all besides more sweet;
It is the blood-bought mercy-seat.

3 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.

4 Ah! whither could we flee for aid,
When tempted, desolate, dismayed:
Or how the host of hell defeat,
Had suff'ring saints no mercy-seat?

5 There, there, on eagle wing 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!