When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
It is well,
with my soul.
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blessed assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
It is well,
with my soul.
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
It is well,
with my soul.
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.
It is well,
with my soul.
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
(written by a man who had more to mourn than i)
2 comments:
Hi Hatless!
You'll see I've been back a number of times to this, your post; because I have always loved this hymn, amd the solace found within its words.
Is everything OK with you?
You mean alot to me; I care, therefore I ask.
Had enough rain there where you are? Like here? LOL
Well, when it rains it pours, and the weather's been rough too...
In just the last couple of months, there's been a sudden bunch of bad news around here. Near the first of the year, there was some miscellaneous stuff and then a friend's divorce. Then came the flooding - nearby, not in the immediate neighborhood. Then the worst of it was two funerals within the same week, neither of which was expected quite so soon.
Last summer when it was too sunny, the tree in my backyard started to wither. When it started raining, the tree started to grow. I'm starting to think that just miiiight be symbolic somehow. ;)
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