When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrow like
sea billows roll; whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say,
"it is well, it is well with my soul".
My sin- O 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!
And, Lord haste the day when the faith shall be sight, the clouds
be rolled back as a scroll, the trump shall resound and the Lord shall decend,
even so- it is well with my soul. -Horatio G. Spafford