Anyone who looks it up online can find this incredible hymn and story in the Wikipedia. A number of years ago I was lying in bed one Sunday morning thinking about sleeping in instead of going to church. It was 20 degrees outside and it had snowed several inches during the night; the heater in my car wasn't very good, the tires were threadbare and going out in the snow was a dangerous prospect. On the other hand, my bed was warm and comfy and I just couldn't see dragging myself out of it and getting out in the weather with my young daughter. I looked out the window, shivered and pulled the covers up higher, but by some "happenstance" of divine design, I forgot to turn off my alarm.
Just about the time I dozed back off, my clock radio came on and the announcer on the Christian radio station I listened to at the time related the following story. I listened to it, cried a little, pulled myself out of bed and took my daughter on to church, having discovered I really had no excuse not to go. Since that time, the hymn has become one of my all time favorites.
The Story:
"It Is Well with My Soul" is a very influential hymn penned by hymnist Horatio Spafford and composed by Philip Bliss. This hymn was written after two major traumas in Spafford’s life. The first was the great Chicago Fire of October 1871, which ruined him financially (he had been a wealthy businessman). Shortly after, while crossing the Atlantic, all four of Spafford’s daughters died in a collision with another ship. Spafford’s wife Anna survived and sent him the now famous telegram, “Saved alone.” Several weeks later, as Spafford’s own ship passed near the spot where his daughters died, the Holy Spirit inspired these words. They speak to the eternal hope that all believers have, no matter what pain and grief befall them on earth.
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The Lyrics:
When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to know,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
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 blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for 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!
For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.
But, Lord, ‘tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh trump of the angel! Oh voice of the Lord!
Blessèd hope, blessèd rest of 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.
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