From Every Stormy Wind

I
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.

II
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-bo’t mercy seat.

III
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.

IV
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?