H. Stowell
FROM every stormy wind that blows,
From every swelling tide of woes,
There is a calm, a safe 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 beside more sweet;
It is the blood-stained mercy-seat.
3
There is a spot where spirits blend,
And friend holds fellowship with friend;
Though sundered far, by faith they meet
Around one common mercy-seat.
4
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.