It Is Well

Of the hymns that I have learned and sang over the past six years, since becoming a Christian, I don’t believe there has been any hymn that has captured me as the hymn “It Is Well with My Soul” has in the past six months.

To be able to say “Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, It is well, it is well with my soul” takes great faith and grace from God. I sing these words now, but would I be able to sing them if I am put into a circumstance, a lot in life, that is not pleasurable, easy, fair, or pain free? I pray God would give me the grace to sing these words even then, looking forward to His coming.

The third verse is probably my favorite. Beginning with “my sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought, my sin…” He couldn’t finish his thought on sin without stopping because he’s overwhelmed by joy in God for this glorious thought…that thought being what follows “My sin not in part but the whole was nailed to the cross and I bear it no more” Oh what a life saving truth. This line in particular has been something that has been of great comfort to me and such a glorious thought. To think that the wrath that I rightly deserved for the sin that I’ve committed was paid for by the work of Christ on the cross is awe inspiring thought. How often do I forget that ALL my sin was nailed to the cross? And how often do I forget or fail to live in light of this glorious thought?

It Is Well

written by Hortatio Spafford

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!

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.