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Retreat L. M.
#578
Good old songs (Cayce book)
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-brought mercy seat.
There is a scene where spirits
blend,
Where friend holds fellowship with friend;
Tho' 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 suff'ring saints no mercy seat?
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