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. |
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It is well, with my soul, |
It is well, with my soul, |
It is well, it is well, with
my soul. |
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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. |
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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! |
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For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live: |
If |
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life |
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul. |
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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! |
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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. |
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