Author:		Hugh Stowell, 1799-1865
Musician:		Thomas Hastings, 1784-1872

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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.

There is a place where Jesus sheds
The oil of gladness on our heads,
A place than all besides more sweet:
It is the bloodstained mercy seat.

There is a scene where spirits blend,
Where friend holds fellowship with friend;
Though sundered far, by faith they meet
Around one common mercy seat.

Ah, whither could we flee for aid,
When tempted, desolate, dismayed:
Or how the hosts of hell defeat,
Had suffering saints no mercy seat?

Ah, there on eagle wings we soar,
And sin and sense molest no more:
And heav'n comes down our souls to greet,
While glory crowns the mercy seat.