When peace, like a river, attends all my way,
when sorrows like sea-billows roll,
whatever my path, you have 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 may buffet, though trials may come,
let this calm assurance control:
that Christ knows my need and my helplessness here
and has shed his own blood for my soul.
The joy, O the joy of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
is nailed to his cross and I bear it no more;
praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
For me it is Christ, it is Christ now to live!
Though death’s waters over me roll,
no fear shall be mine, for in death as in life
you will whisper your peace to my soul.
But, Lord, for your coming in glory we wait;
the sky, not the grave, is our goal;
the trumpet shall sound and the Lord shall descend:
bless the Lord, bless the Lord, O my soul!