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
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