From Ev’ry Stormy Wind (words only)
From ev’ry stormy wind that blows,
From every swelling tide of woes,
There is a safe, sure hiding place
‘Tis found before the Throne of grace.
There is a place where Jesus sheds
The oil of gladness on our heads,
Where we by faith behold His face,
Who sits upon the Throne of grace.
There as on eagle's wings we soar,
And time and sense seem all no more,
Fresh strength to run our pilgrim race
We gather from the Throne of grace.
God's wondrous help in time of need,
Which brings deliverance indeed.
And all His mercy, we may trace
As coming from the Throne of grace.
Ah! whither could we flee for aid,
When tempted, desolate, dismayed?
How fearful then would be our case,
Had suff’ring saints no Throne of grace!