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, though 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 sins—Othe bliss of this glorious thought—

My sins—not in part, but the whole—

Were borne on the cross, and are gone evermore.

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

O Lord, 'tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,

The sky, not the grave, is our goal.

O voice of archangel! O trumpet of God!

Blessed hope! blessed rest of my soul!