Sunday, February 19, 2006

Hymn

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 sin – O 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! 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.

4 comments:

Lincoln Davis said...

Thanks for posting this, Matt. Quite edifying.

sam said...

hymns suck...

mg said...

If I hadn't spent an afternoon singing hymns in a paint fume filled barn with you, I'd be tempted to retort...

sam said...

yes... yes that is true, i will be a takebacker and takeback my previous comment... hymns do not suck...