The Service of Praise ‎#122

122. The Mercy-Seat

1 From ev’ry stormy wind that blows,
From ev’ry swelling tide of woes,
There is a clam, 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 blood-bought mercy-seat.

2 There is a spot where spirits blend,
Where friend holds fellowship with friend;
Tho’ sundered far, by faith they meet
Around one common mercy-seat.
O! Whither could we flee for aid
When tempted, desolate, dismayed;
Or how the hosts of sin defeat,
Had suff’ring saints no mercy-seat?

3 There, there on eagle wings we soar,
And time, and sense seem all no more;
And heav’n comes down our souls to greet,
While glory crowns the mercy-seat.
O! May my hand forget her skill
My tongue be silent, cold and still,
This bounding heart forget to beat,
If I forget the mercy-seat.

Text Information

• First Line: From every stormy wind that blows
• Title: The Mercy-Seat
• Author: Hugh Stowell
• Language: English
• Publication Date: 1900

Tune Information

• Name: [From every stormy wind that blows]
• Composer: R. C. Ward