it is well.
185
More sweetly 'mid the tempest's swell,
Breathes the low whisper, "it is well."
Breathes the low whisper, "it is well."
Fond record to the stricken breast!
Saviour! thy sacred name be blest!
Be near us in our hour of need;
Safely our sinking footsteps lead.
Thine eye of pitying love can see
Our depth of secret agony.
Thou who didst once with mortals dwell,
Say to our spirits, "it is well!"
Saviour! thy sacred name be blest!
Be near us in our hour of need;
Safely our sinking footsteps lead.
Thine eye of pitying love can see
Our depth of secret agony.
Thou who didst once with mortals dwell,
Say to our spirits, "it is well!"
Though the fond heart in anguish mourn
The treasures from its casket torn;
'Mid fadeless flowers and cloudless skies,
They shine as gems of Paradise.
There Hope to full fruition turns,
And Love with beam undying burns;
While, 'mid the harps which round her swell,
Faith sings exulting, "it was well."
The treasures from its casket torn;
'Mid fadeless flowers and cloudless skies,
They shine as gems of Paradise.
There Hope to full fruition turns,
And Love with beam undying burns;
While, 'mid the harps which round her swell,
Faith sings exulting, "it was well."
