My lasting heritage;
There shall my noblest pow’rs rejoice,
My warmest thoughts engage.
I’ll read the histories of Thy love,
And keep Thy laws in sight,
While through the promises I rove,
With ever fresh delight.
‘Tis a broad land of wealth unknown,
Where springs of life arise;
Seeds of immortal bliss are sown,
And hidden glory lies.
The best relief that mourners have,
It makes our sorrows blest;
Our fairest hope beyond the grave,
And our eternal rest.
Rev. Isaac Watts
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.”
Though Satan should buffet, tho’ trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
My sin-oh, the bliss of this glorious tho’t-
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, oh, my soul!
And, Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight,
The clouds be roll’d back as a scroll,
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
“Even so” - it is well with my soul.
Chorus
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well with my soul.
H. G. Spafford
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