It Is Well With My Soul

Dear sister,

You may already be familiar with the story of the hymn It Is Well With My Soul.

Horatio Spafford’s two-year-old son died, and shortly thereafter the 1871 Great Chicago Fire ruined him financially (he was a successful lawyer and had invested in property in the area that was damaged by the fire). His business interests took another hit in the economic downturn in 1873, when he had planned to travel to Europe with his family. In a last-minute change of plan, he sent his family ahead while he remained behind to deal with zoning problems having to do with the fire. While crossing the Atlantic, their ship sank quickly after a collision with another vessel, and all four of their daughters died. Spafford’s wife Anna survived and sent him a telegram that simply said, “Saved alone.” Shortly afterward, as Spafford traveled to meet his grieving wife, he wrote these words as his ship passed near where his daughters had died.

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

Deeply moving words, to be sure. But I feel too often we stop there with this hymn. We share it with each other as encouragement to hang on, trust God, keep the faith, ‘learn in every situation to be content’ (Philippians 4:11). Without the Holy Spirit mourning with us, that is sometimes too much willpower to bear.

The next verse tells the source of our hope, Jesus:

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

And the next verse gives the gospel again, with a breathless aside about the glory of its truth:

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!
It is well with my soul,
It is well, it is well with my soul.

Lord willing, I will turn 30 next month, and people keep asking me how I feel about it and whether I’m okay with it and assuring me how young that still is, as if I didn’t already know! Scripture is clear that aging is an honor, that grey hair is a crown; that getting older is something to be sought after. And every birthday—like every day we awaken with God’s mercies new every morning—brings us closer to Jesus’ return in glory, when there will be no more sorrow or crying, when the former things will pass away and God will wipe away all tears.

The final verse fixes our eyes heavenward, to Jesus’ return:

And Lord, haste the day when the 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.
It is well with my soul,
It is well, it is well with my soul.

Your sister,

Sarah