soul salve {a song diary}

i can remember listening to an 'adventure in odyssey' long ago on the life of Horatio Spafford, the writer of the famous hymn 'it is well with my soul'.  it was super tragic, but i still remember it today. it was moving, for reasons i couldn't articulate as a child.

i downloaded this track from itunes the other day and have been listening to as i scrub floors & dust shelves in preparation for baby girl to arrive and i find myself oddly at peace.  i once heard someone say 'you can preach measles all you want but if you have the mumps that's what people will catch'.  there is nothing about the story behind this hymn that would naturally make anyone feel at peace but somehow the song just emanates peace. i can't say that i have ever gone through anything even remotely comparable to Horatio Spafford but it stills me amungst the piling laundry, growing physical discomforts & demands.  it's like a salve for the soul. a gentle reminder that in Christ nothing is lost, even when you've lost it all.

{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 know,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, 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

No comments:

Post a Comment