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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.
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!
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.