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,
though sunder'd far, by faith they meet
around one common mercy seat.

4 Ah! whither could we flee for aid,
when tempted, desolate, dismayed?
How would the hosts of hell defeat,
had suff'ring saints no mercy seat!

5 There, there, on eagle wings we soar,
and sin and sense seem all no more,
and heav'n comes down, our souls to greet,
While glory crowns the mercy seat!