Hugh Stowell, 1828
From every stormy wind that blows,
From every 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 of all on earth most sweet;
It is the blood bought 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! there, on eagles’ wings we soar,
And sin and sorrow molest no more;
And heav’n comes down, our souls to greet,
While glory crowns the mercy seat.
Oh, let my hand forget her skill,
My tongue be silent, cold, and still,
This bounding heart forget to beat,
If I forget the mercy seat!