During this week, I’ve found myself singing hymns. Not intentionally. They just roll out of me as easy as breathing. I don’t even know I’m doing it until I hear the sound of my own voice.

“Amazing Grace” and “How Great Thou Art” have been two of the top three.

“It Is Well With My Soul” is the third. The story of how it was written makes it even more dear to me right now.

Horatio Spafford was a successful attorney in 1870’s Chicago, who suffered several tragedies in a short span:

  • 1871: Spafford’s only son died at age 4 from scarlet fever
  • In late 1871: The Great Chicago Fire consumed and destroyed much of Spafford’s extensive investment properties
  • In 1873, Spafford, his wife and four daughters bought passage on a ship to Europe for a family vacation. Spafford had to stay behind to finish some business transactions. On November 22, the ship collided with an iron sailing vessel. Spafford’s wife Anna wired him a telegram that simply stated “Saved Alone.” His four daughters had died.

Spafford quickly found travel overseas to meet Anna. As the ship approached the area of the earlier tragedy, the Captain brought Spafford to the deck. After passing the location where his beloved daughters had died, he went back to his cabin and penned this beautiful song.

It is a great comfort to me this week, to know that even in this chaos of death, God is still in control. While we hurt on earth, there will be a day when we no longer suffer heartache.

I’m not ready, not willing, to get back to “normal”: to do the every-day tasks that still need doing. To smile more often than not. I’m not ready to let go of the pain. I’m not ready to get a good night’s sleep or not catch myself crying now and then. I’m not ready to lie to my daughter and tell her it will all be okay and that someday it will go away.

But I am at peace.

And while I continue to pray for Something Good, I am still filled with the peace that God is in control.

In the absence of everything else, that’s all I need to know.

It Is Well With My Soul

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, (it is well),
With my soul, (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, 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!

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.

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!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of 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.

Horatio Spafford

And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!

"These Are a Few of My Favorite Things"
Sweeten my tea and share: