Approach, my soul, the mercy seat,
Where Jesus answers prayer;
There humbly fall before His feet,
For none can perish there.

Thy promise is my only plea,
With this I venture nigh;
Thou callest burdened souls to Thee,
And such, O Lord, am I.

Bowed down beneath a load of sin,
By Satan sorely pressed,
By war without and fears within,
I come to Thee for rest.

Be Thou my Shield and hiding Place,
That, sheltered by Thy side,
I may my fierce accuser face,
And tell him Thou hast died!

O wondrous love! to bleed and die,
To bear the cross and shame,
That guilty sinners, such as I,
Might plead Thy gracious Name.

“Poor tempest-tossèd soul, be still;
My promised grace receive”;
’Tis Jesus speaks—I must, I will,
I can, I do believe.

Before Thy mercy seat, O Lord,
Behold, Thy servants stand,
To ask the knowledge of Thy Word,
The guidance of Thy hand.

Let Thy eternal truths, we pray,
Dwell richly in each heart;
That from the safe and narrow way
We never may depart.

Lord, from Thy Word remove the seal,
Unfold its hidden store,
And as we read, teach us to feel
Its value more and more.

Help us to see a Savior’s love
Shine forth from every page,
And let the thoughts of joys above
Our inmost souls engage.

Thus, while Thy Word our footsteps guides,
Shall we be truly blest,
And soon arrive where love provides
An everlasting rest.

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 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.

There, there, on eagles’ wings we soar,
And time and sense seem all no more;
And heaven 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!

Jehovah, God, who dwelt of old
In temples made with hands,
Thy power display, Thy truth unfold,
Where this new temple stands.

Vouchsafe to meet Thy children here,
Nor ever hence depart;
From sorrow’s eye wipe every tear,
And bless each longing heart.

The rich man’s gift, the widow’s mite,
Are blended in these walls;
These altars welcome all alike
Who heed God’s gracious calls.

From things unholy and unclean
We separate this place;
May naught here ever come between
This people and Thy face!

Now with this house we give to Thee
Ourselves, our hearts, our all,
The pledge of faith and loyalty,
Held subject to Thy call.

And when at last the blood washed throng
Is gathered from all lands,
We’ll enter with triumphant songs
The house not made with hands.

Lord, I approach, Thy mercy seat,
Where Thou dost answer prayer;
There humbly fall before Thy feet,
For none can perish there.

Thy promise is my only plea,
With this I venture nigh;
Thou callest burdened souls to Thee,
And such, O Lord, am I.

Bowed down beneath a load of sin,
By Satan sorely pressed,
By war without and fears within,
I come to Thee for rest.

Be Thou my Shield, my hiding Place,
That, sheltered near Thy side,
I may my fierce accuser face,
And tell him Thou hast died.