When peace, like a river, attended 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, with my soul,
It is
well, it is well, with my soul.
Though Satan
should buffet,
though trials should come,
Let this bless 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, 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, 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, with my soul,
It is
well, it is well, with my soul.
