slipping slow I went,
no leap in sudden hast,
but quietly I eased away
into this silent waste.
How long it's been,
I do not know
a minuet from Him seems
like long midnights of emptiness
     and silent screams.
I heard the distant promises with wistfulness
and groped to see
a glimmer of Him in the dark:
Could He see me?
There was no pounding on the Gates,
-no cry at Heaven's door.
I had no strength;
my tears left a puddle on the floor.
Then from my crumpled nothingness,
my dungeon of despair,
a quiet opening of the door
-a breath of Living air.
He let me sleep, as if I'd died,
yet when the morning broke
the Risen Son discovered me,
and I awoke.

Now, I awoke,
His warming love,
transformed everything.
Tell me-
is this how an acorn feels in Spring?


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.'

Tho' Satan should buffet, tho' trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His Own blood for my soul.

My sin-O the bliss of this glorious tho't
My sin-not in part, but the whole
Is nailed to His cross and I bear it no more!
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

And, Lord haste the day when the faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll
The trumpet shall resound and the Lord shall descend
Even so-it is well with my soul.
~ ~H. G. Spafford~ ~

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