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.


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.


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.


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.


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