Hymns - It is Well With My Soul

If you haven't figured it out yet, I love music and often use songs to relate something I am going through.  I just stumbled upon a website called Wordwise Hymns.  Apparently, the writer tells the history behind hymns and/or the writers.  Growing up in a Southern Baptist church, I was exposed to many hymns and have a few favorites.  One of them is "It is Well With my Soul."  The story behind that hymn is amazing.  It was sung at Luke's memorial service - 6 years ago today - and at my Granny's service.  I have clung to the words of this hymn and it always brings me to tears when I hear it.

The writer, Horatio Spafford, was a prominent businessman in 1870's Chicago and close friend of DL Moody - the preacher.  He suffered many losses including his only son in 18709 to scarlet fever, many of his business holdings in 1871 in the Great Chicago Fire, and his 4 daughters in a tragic accident at sea on their way to England to escape Chicago and help with DL Moody's evangelistic meetings.  His wife was spared. Alone.  Spafford was not on the ship, but was detained due to work and was following soon afterward.

When the ship passed over the spot that his daughters died, he penned the hymn I love today.  In the midst of horrendous heart crushing tragedy, he was still able to say it was well with his soul.  I have read several different verses this is based on.  These include Job 1:21, 2 Kings 4:26, Psalm 46:1....  I think it was based not on one verse, but on a deep intimate knowledge of the bible and a deep intimate relationship with Christ.  Only then could he have been able to write the song so loved by many.

It Is Well With My Soul

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll;

Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,

It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Refrain:

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!

Blessed hope, blessed 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.

Horatio Spafford