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The Mercy Seat.

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Words by Mrs. Sigourney. Music by G. W. C.

From every stormy wind that blows,
From every swelling tide of woes,
There is a calm a sure retreat —
Our refuge is the Mercy seat.

There is a place where Jesus sheds
The oil of gladness on our heads,
A place than all beside more

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sweet —
We seek the blood-bought Mercy seat.

There is a spot where spirits blend,
Where friend holds fellowship with friend;
Though sundered far, by faith we meet,
Around one common Mercy-Seat.

Ah! whither could we flee for aid,
When hunted, scourged, oppressed, dismayed, —
Or how our bloody foes defeat,
Had suffering slaves no Mercy-Seat!

Oh! let these hands forget their skill,
These tongues be silent, cold, and still,
These throbbing heart? forget to beat,
If we forget the Mercy-Seat.

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