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.
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—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 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.