This hymn was included in 'The Winter's Wreath, a Collection of Original Contributions in Prose and Verse' (1829)
From every stormy wind that blows,
From every swelling tide of woes,
There is a calm, a sure retreat;
'Tis found beneth the mercy seat.
There is a place where Jesus sheds
The oil of gladness on our heads;
A plan than all besides more 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, wither could we flee for aid,
When tempted, desolate, dismayed,
Or how the hosts of hell defeat,
Had suffering saints no mercy seat?
There, there, on eagles' wings we soar,
And time and sense seem no more;
And Heav'n comes down, our souls to greet,
And 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!
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