246. From Every Stormy Wind That Blows

L.M.
by H. Stowell
1
From every stormy wind that blows,
 
From every swelling tide of woes,
 
There is a calm, a sweet retreat;
 
'Tis found before the mercy-seat.
2
There is a place where mercy sheds
 
The oil of gladness on our heads;
 
A place than all beside more sweet—
 
It is the heavenly mercy-seat.
3
There is a spot where souls unite,
 
And saint meets saint in heavenly light;
 
Though sundered far, by faith they meet
 
Before the common mercy-seat.
4
Ah! whither could we flee for aid
 
When tempted, desolate, dismayed?
 
Or how the hosts of hell defeat,
 
Had suffering saints no mercy-seat?
5
Thither by faith we upward soar,
 
And time and sense seem all no more,
 
For freely God our souls can greet
 
Where glory crowns the mercy-seat.