It Is Well With My Soul

Horatio Spafford.

I bet you've never even heard of the man.

But this man wrote one of the most popular hymns in history, "It Is Well With My Soul."

From the words of the hymn, you would never know how many miserable trials the man was going through. First, his only son died at the age of 4. Then, the great Chicago fire destroyed him financially. He planned to travel to Europe with his family, but financial issues caused by the fire delayed him. He sent his family ahead, but the ship sank while it was crossing the Atlantic. Miraculously, his wife survived, but all four of his daughters were lost to the sea. As Spafford rode on the next ship to catch up with his grieving wife, he wrote the famous words to this hymn. Interestingly, he was able to praise the Lord and say "it is well with my soul" even in the midst of his extreme trials.

My trials pale in comparison to his, but I don't know that I have ever praised the Lord in the midst of them. Lord, please give me faith enough to see You in the midst of the storm. Help me to lift up my hands and my heart in praise even when I am humbled and down on my face. 

"It Is Well With My Soul"

When peace like a river, attendeth my way, 
When sorrows like sea billows roll; 
Whatever my lot, Thou hast 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! 
Blessed hope, blessed 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.

This entry was posted on Oct 21, 2011 . You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 . You can leave a response .

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