Saved Alone

As Horatio Spafford crossed the sea, passed the spot where his four daughters lay, he looked to the heavens and penned a great hymn. He had lost a son and business in the great Chicago Fire as well. He was now to join his grieving wife and would eventually have two surviving daughters, one who would take in orphans. It is well...it is well with our souls. 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 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 It is well (it is well) With my soul (with my soul) It is well, it is well with 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 It is well (it is well) With my soul (with my soul) It is well, it is well with my soul It is well (it is well) With my soul (with my soul) It is well, it is well with my soul SAVED ALONE helpless to save, hands slipping...slipping—away fire and water, mixed with our Savior’s blood. when the heart sinks— to the lowest depths how does one find —-bliss? how does one sing, lift one’s eyes to the royal skies? clouds roll, reveal the bluest eye, cold steel determination in tears. something to hold dear. waves billow and roll, swallow body of stars. familial remnants without mother or father— waiting for the one yet to be born— born indeed, to hold hopeful eyes— feed their souls is one of their stories yet to be told… Spaffords’ tearful hug in heavenlies— Jesus’ wet palm. hope sailed, faith stretched— it is indeed well...well with our souls. 11/19/2020