547
L. M.
The Mercy Seat.
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.
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 sundered far, by faith they meet
Around one common Mercy Seat.
4 Ah! whither could we flee for aid,
When tempted, desolate, dismayed;
Or how the host of hell defeat,
Had suffering souls no Mercy Seat?
5 There! there on eagle wings we soar,
And sin and sense seem all no more,
And heaven comes down our souls to greet,
And glory crowns the Mercy Seat!
6 O let my hand forget her skill,
My tongue be silent cold and still,
This bounding heart forget to beat,
Ere I forget the Mercy Seat!
Stowell.