It is well with my soul?
Dear Lord, can I say?
When the tempests beset me
And the storm clouds are grey?
Can I rest in your arms
Courageous and strong
When my castles all tumble
And my dreams all go wrong?
Can I cling to your mercy
When I’m ready to sink?
In the Slough of despond,
I am right on the brink.
Can I let you, dear Lord,
Gently lift up my head
And raise my soul to
Heights of glory instead?
Can I trust you to know
What is best for me
When ahead it is darkness
And storm clouds I see?
When fears all beset me
And storm clouds asail
I’ll get strength from the hand
With the print of the nail.
I’ll find rest tucked up close
To that spear-wounded side.
And in Grace and in Glory
I know I’ll abide.

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