Last Sunday, we sang a beautiful hymn called “It is well with my soul” at church service. I have known this hymn for a long time, but I have never been told the story behind it. The worship leader shared the story with us. In summary, this hymn was written by Haratio G. Spafford (a successful presbyterian lawyer 1828 – 1888) and the music was written by Philip P. Bliss (1838 – 1876). Spafford wrote this hymn after two major traumas in his life. The first was the great Chicago fire in October 1871 which ruined him financially and before the fire, he lost his son. The second was the death of his four daughters in a deadly collision with another ship while crossing to Atlantic on their way to Europe. Spafford’s wife survived the collision and cabled 2 simple words “Saved alone” to her husband who was not on the ship with the family then. Sev­er­al weeks lat­er, Spaf­ford’s own ship passed near the spot where his daugh­ters died, and inspired by the Holy Spirit, he penned down this hymn. The words speak of the eter­nal hope that all be­liev­ers have, no mat­ter what pain and grief be­fall them on earth. A great lesson to learn. Here’s the hymn:

It Is Well With My Soul

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.

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.

Refrain

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!

Refrain

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.

Refrain

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!

Refrain

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.

Refrain

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