I am going to buy 10 Bibles this week. It is an act of faith on my part along with my Church family that each of us may have 10 people see God in us and want to know more about Him. Then I look at myself and wonder what they are seeing. That is what appeal might a sputtering, blundering planet possibly have? Then I meditate on Psalm 139 where David declares God knows us completely from every thought to every bump! I go to the piano and begin to play from my heart and the song- It is Well With My Soul. While playing the song the only words I can only remember are, “When peace, like a river, attendeth my way……..” (and of course the powerful chorus repeating “ It is Well” over and over “With my Soul”). As I play it over and over the words sorrow, sin, and helpless come to mind so I leave the piano and like all spoiled Americans Google the lyrics to the song.

I’m thinking peace as the ocean waves over my feet and the sunshine perfect links my soul and I’m ok. You know- everything is good- I feel happy- all is well. I have achieved a level of utopia no matter how momentary- yeah! Don’t get me wrong- I miss a safe community, prayer in schools, and television without blatant sex and disgusting language- I want it to be different than it is today, but if it doesn’t change can I have some tranquility? Google is great and this is what I found:

Horatio G. Spafford wrote “It Is Well With My Soul” after two tragedies in his life. The Chicago Fire in 1871 ruined him financially and shortly after all four of his daughters died when their ship collided with another- only his wife was rescued. While traveling in the area where his daughters died the Holy Spirit gave him these words: (I dare you to get past the period language and read every word to the end!)

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.

Refrain:
It is well, with my soul.
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 the scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.

I am going to purchase 10 Bibles………………………….