It Is Well with My Soul

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

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.